The Fallen Star: A Tale of Redwall
by Kerian Halcyon
Summary: An abbey mouse comes of age, a Badger Lord recieves a terrifying vision, a King of Bounty Hunters spreads terror to the seas of the west, a massive creature seeks revenge, and a mighty star brings doom to Mossflower. Will Redwall survive?
1. Prologue

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**The Fallen Star**

**A Tale of Redwall**

Prologue: Remembering

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_Salamandastron, the Summer of the Golden Leaves_

It has been many years since I have been to that beloved place which I had once called home; Redwall Abbey. Aye, it has been far too long since I have been there, though I have a duty which I must keep to the task, which is to live here and be the great and honored recorder and historian for the mighty Badger Mountain of Salamandastron. It is such an honor indeed; one that I have carried out all of these past seasons.

There is good reason why I have not travelled to Redwall; the abbey of my birth. Though I grew up there and lived there for countless seasons, fate played a cruel trick on me by sending me here. While I am at home in the quiet of the mountain, the fact that virtually everyone here will eat all of the scoff and not leave some for those of us with much smaller appetites does get tiresome. The main reason why I have not gone, I suspect, is because I have gotten old. Indeed, long gone is the spring in my step that heralded my youth; no more are my muscles tightened with adrenaline from running and playing, nor are my bones as strong as they used to. I guess that age comes to us all; even to us squirrels.

Deary me, I must have gone on and rambled about my age again. Here I am, the Mountain's historian, and I have to go on and write about how much of a fuss I make about my age. Oh well; old habits die hard, though old age sticks with you. The second reason why I have not gone is because of my book that I've been writing. My tome, titled the Falling Star, separated into three parts and specifically telling about the event that shook all of Mossflower all of those years ago.

Oh, now I'm getting ahead of myself again. The things I do when I'm bored. Well, I guess you might as well find out sooner than later. That's why I'm writing this prologue to my book; otherwise I'd just leave it as it is. A hard piece of work, this mighty tome. I had to speak to probably several dozen individuals, and look into even more books and chronicles about the matter. Even worse, I once had to travel all the way across the Great Sea to learn more about the enemy that faced Redwall Abbey at this time. Still, now that it is done, I feel that it is possibly my greatest success here at Salamandastron. So, without further ado, I give you The Fallen Star...

_-Friar Rufe Squirreljibe, formerly of Redwall, Historian of Salamandastron_

**Kerian**: This is going to be my first attempt at making a Redwall story. I have always loved Redwall, and I love Brian Jacques' works. However, we all know that even the greatest of authors have to go at some point in time in their lives (J.R.R. Tolkien is one example), and that when they do, they leave behind a mess of writings, unfinished works, and dissapointed/disheartened fans in their wake when they leave to the next life. Fanfiction solves that problem because it allows fans like me to write their own fantasy about these stories and share them with other fans. Some of them are cruddy. In fact, I've looked at a lot of stories that are either too short, have been dropped less than halfway through, or were written by guys who had no idea what they were doing. However, there are a many few that have been written that are generally awe inspiring, ones that I tend to think are the diamonds amongst the coal. It is these kinds of stories that give fans like you and me a chance to read and to be apprecaitive of what fans can do. I hope to be able to write successes like that (Legacy of the Sages, a Legend of Zelda fanfic, is one of those few successes), and I intend to not let fans of this franchise down. And so, without further ado, The Fallen Star...

-Kerian

**_Disclaimer_**: Redwall and all it entitles is the sole property of Brian Jacques. I do not own Redwall or any of its characters, and I agree that this story is specifically meant for fanfiction. Enough said...


	2. Book 1: Nature's Wrath

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_I-Am that is, My sword shall wield for me_

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**The Fallen Star**

**A Tale of Redwall**

Book 1: Nature's Wrath

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_I-Am that is, My sword shall wield for me_

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	3. Chapter 1

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**The Fallen Star**

**A Tale of Redwall**

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A pale wind picked up across the sunset graced trees of Mossflower Woods. Deep in Mossflower Country, the Abbey of Redwall stood like a silent sentinel, its red sandstone walls reflecting the deep hues of the sun's final orange light. The sky darkened to herald the oncoming night; already stars began to shine like beacons in the twilight, waiting to take their place in the heavens as the sun slowly dipped over the horizon.

Abbot Brian took in the view. He sighed in satisfaction that another perfect day had gone by in Redwall Abbey. Not a thing was out of place there in Redwall Abbey; the abbey dwellers were gathered in Cavern Hole in preparation for the nightly repast of supper, while bees outside were busy returning to their hives near the abbey walls. Huffing and puffing could be heard as Cellarhog Prickle and his assistant, the young mole named Ruff, carried a tankard of October Ale between them to be used for supper that night. A small school of grayling fish were preparing for their own nightly feast as water bugs awaken from a day of sunbathing and burrowing beneath the reeds in the pond. The familiar hearty footsteps of Gruff, Ruff's father and the Foremole of the moles in Redwall, made his way carefully up to remind old Grenwick the Bank Vole that it was time to ring the abbey bells again to remind those in Mossflower of the late night hour.

Brian stood looking off into the sunset as heavy footsteps lumbered up the western stairs and towards his side on the northern wall. Brian didn't even have to glance to his left to know that it was Morwen, the Badgermum of Redwall, coming to remind the abbot of the supper repast that was about to begin. Brian sighed as Morwen stepped forward, her hands to her hips in mock criticism.

"Father Abbot," the great Badger lady said, "You'd think that a mouse your age would know better than to stand here when there is a supper to attend. Come down; the abbey can't start without their abbot."

Abbot Brian sighed aloud. "Forgive me, Morwen," Abbot Brian said, "Sunsets were always a special time to me. Watching the twilight descend upon Mossflower is always a good way to relax the mind, especially for one like me."

"Aye," Morwen said in agreement, "I agree that the sunset's beautiful, but if you watch it any longer the supper will get cold, and you know how Friar Jon is about cold vittles."

Abbot Brian laughed. "Aye," he said, "I know what you mean. Vittles served cold are vittles served spoiled. Every time I come late for supper, he'd always say that. You'd think that he'd take a break every now and then."

"Oh, I agree heartily with him," Morwen said, "I don't want my Onion and Turnip Flans getting cold either. The gravy makes the pastries all soggy. Bleagh!"

Abbot Brian laughed some more. "Come on, Morwen," he said, "Let's get down to supper. I don't want you turning into a giant version of Friar Jon, no sir!"

"I'll see that I do if my flans get cold," she said in mock anger as they both descended the stairs.

Young Ruff watched from beneath the big barrel of October Ale that he was helping to carry as the two abbey elders made their way inside. He huffed and puffed as he tried to carry the big keg, though it was a very difficult thing indeed, even with Cellarhog Prickle, a fine and stout hedgehog, to help him with the back end of the thing.

"Burr, naow," he groaned in his gruff mole accent, "How cummat theys can go insoide an' leave usn's here loik that? Good ol' Badgermum Moawen could helpn' us carry 'tis here barrol, burr aye!"

"Hush now, young Ruff," Prickle complained, grunting as he lifted the back end of the big keg of ale, "Less talkin', more carryin'. Your pap will be 'ere shortly to 'elp us."

"'Im's too scarred o' hights, zur Prickle," Ruff said, "e'll nevvur get doan 'dem stairs farst 'nough. Allus goes slow on way back doan, burr hurr..."

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Redwall Abbey was quite abuzz that night. Supper was laid out on the table as always, and everyone was seated on the big tables around Cavern Hole. The fires were stoked up to keep the room warm, mostly to keep the food from spoiling while waiting for the Abbot. The thing different about today, however, was that there was a special occasion worth noticing…

It was young Adrian's birthday today!

Adrian was a fine young mouse, a young 'un born and raised within the stones and timbers of Redwall Abbey. He was 16 years old now; a very fine mouse indeed, having officially come of age. Many elders could hardly believe how quickly and assuredly the boy had grown up, some stating that it seemed like only yesterday when he was brought in as a baby, and orphaned when his mother died about a year or two later. Adrian showed no sign of being hindered by having been brought up without parents. He considered the brothers and sisters of Redwall Abbey to be his family. No mouse had ever been considered more at home at Redwall than Adrian…

His birthday would have been a grand one, if Abbot Brian would arrive and start supper before food got cold.

"Oi!" said Danfur, a young otter and one of Adrian's good friends, "What's keeping the Abbot this time? I'm hungry enough that I could start a three season famine soon if I don't get some grub!"

"I agree," said Daniel, a young mouse a season younger than Adrian, "I appreciate the fact that Abbot Brian should get some time alone, but does he have to do it every night and get supper cold? I'm so hungry!"

Adrian nodded his agreement. He was just about to say something when he heard the door to Cavern Hole open up. He turned around and smiled at the recognizable figure of Morwen walking through the door.

"Looks like we won't have to wait any longer," Adrian said, "Here they come now."

The Abbot strode to his chair at the far end of the table, while Morwen took her place on the opposite end. The Abbot sat upon his chair and sighed, quickly enjoying the comfort of his seat, before rising and opening his paws for grace. Everyone did likewise, holding out their paws and standing in respect as the Abbot began to say grace over the food.

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_Fur and Whisker, Tooth and Claw,_

_All who enter through our door,_

_Enjoy food, comfort, love and rest,_

_And a meal cooked by our very best,_

_Seasons pass upon life's stage,_

_And today we celebrate a come of age._

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This, of course, was followed by a grateful "Amen!" and with that, supper began.

Adrian was rather excited about today. Since he had come of age, the other abbey beasts treated him like an adult. As such, he was able to drink things like October Ale, and sit with the elders, instead of being stuck with the dibbuns every supper meal. Adrian was to take his status responsibly; he wasn't going to shirk around with it. He wanted to make the Redwallers proud.

Of course, there was no saying that he wouldn't enjoy the benefits of being an adult.

Adrian helped himself to an oat farl, quickly putting some hazelnut and herb cheese into it and adding some gravy inside. Dipping it into a bowl of mushroom and potato soup, he chomped down, enjoying the supper repast. To Adrian's left, Daniel helped himself to a turnip and carrot pastry, while to his right, Danfur helped himself to the world famous Watershrimp and Hotroot soup.

Danfur took a sip, furrowing his brow and smiling with pleasure from the taste. "Ah," he said, "Hotroot soup…it's always hot and tasty, even if it does get cold. Here, Adrian, dip your farl into this and have a try. It's real tasty today!"

"No thanks," Adrian said, chuckling. He knew better than to trust Danfur and his Hotroot. The otter was addicted to the stuff. Many a supper had been almost ruined because the young otter snuck extra hot Hotroot Powder into the soup, even going so far as to dip whole Watershrimp inside the stuff. Even the other otters, the Skipper included, had to cover their noses out of fear that they'd lose their sense of smell from one of Danfur's concoctions.

"Suit yourself mate," Danfur said, grabbing an oat farl of his own and dipping it whole inside of the soup. Adrian couldn't help but wince at the sight of Danfur greedily eating the Hotroot soup.

"Eugh," said a mole nearby, "Ow can 'otters stand that stuff, burr hurr?"

"Oi dunno," another mole said, "Oi moind me own buzzniz 'bout otters. Otter food iz 'orful, burr aye. Now, Turnip n' 'Tater poi, 'dat's food!"

Abbot Brian sighed in satisfaction as he dug into a leek and mushroom pastie. With a sigh of enjoyment, he looked around at the table, checking on those at the table enjoying the repast.

Morwen, of course, had her hands full. With an onion and turnip flan in one hand, and a dibbun on her lap, she was more interested in being busy than relaxing.

"Come on, young 'un," she said, "You'll love this. Eat up, now. Don't you want to get big and strong like me? Come on, try some onion flan."

The dibbun, a feisty little squirrelmaid, stuck up her nose to the flan.

"Don't you know us likkle maids are tiny and pretty, not big and strong?" she asked cheekily.

"There now," Morwen said, "You shouldn't be so cheeky, young one. How else do you get as pretty as young Rosaline over there?"

Rosaline was a mousemaid, and a fine one at that. While most mice in Redwall had brown fur, hers was speckled with red upon her head and down her back. She was said to have been descended from the line of mice that came from Noonvale, specifically from the ancient Brome, and through him, Rose, who was said to have been a lover of Martin the Warrior. Her ancestors came to the area of Mossflower long ago. She was said to be the last of their line, though she had never seen Noonvale herself. She was born outside of Mossflower country, found as a dibbun in the darkness of the Forest when she was but a few seasons old. In fact, if Adrian could remember correctly, he was the one that found her, while they were out berry picking.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Adrian had a liking towards Rosaline. Save for Daniel, Rosaline was his only peer mouse friend. Every other mouse in the abbey was either a dibbun or an adult, the majority of youngsters in his age group being otters, squirrels, and hedgehogs. Still, it didn't really matter in the end; friends are friends, no matter what species they were.

Adrian had enjoyed his first beaker of October Ale when Friar Jon, a Hare with a cooking skill that was as big as his appetite, walked up to the Abbot's chair. Adrian couldn't help but smile as Friar Jon chided the Abbot for being late again.

"Tsk, tsk, Father Abbot," the hare said chidingly, "You should know by now that vittles served cold are vittles served spoiled, wot? I say, you should bally well either skip the summer sunset gazing or serve supper at a later hour, or an entire abbey's worth of creatures would be rather angry at you for getting their food cold."

"Now, now, Jon," Abbot Brian said, "It's alright. I understand that I have been getting carried away lately. Wasn't it only yesterday that I didn't come until well after sundown and caused your best trifles and pastries to go cold?"

"Indeed it was," the hare said, "That was the same night that the dibbuns tossed all of those soggy flans at me, followed soon by Morwen. I still haven't cleaned up all of the gravy out of my ears. Save for a salad you can't bally serve a good meal cold, wot?"

"I remember now," Abbot Brian said, "I'll try to keep my reflections a little shorter next time. Don't worry. It won't happen again."

"I hope it bally won't," Friar Jon said, "Well, better get back to the kitchens before my 'surprise' gets burnt. I'll be out in a jiffy, wot, wot!"

Friar Jon left, heading back into the Kitchens. Adrian couldn't help but chuckle as he remembered the predicament that happened yesterday. One of the dibbuns, a little rascal otter named Barm, and his partner in crime, a hedgehog named Twill, had convinced the dibbuns that Friar Jon was a mighty vermin cook and that he was going to poison them with his cold food. In the end, Friar Jon ended up being soaked in gravy, while the dibbuns got the worst dressing down ever recorded in Redwall Abbey. Badgermum Morwen was still mad at those two, and was keeping a very close watch on them both.

When Friar Jon came out again, he had Cellarhog Prickle and Ruff the mole help him take three trolleys full of cakes out into the tables. Passing them around, Friar Jon called for silence and began a short speech.

"Today is a very special day for one in our number," the hare said, "It is not often that we have one of our fine abbey young ones bally come of age, and so I speak for all of us when I say that is a cause worth celebrating. I am not good at singing, nor am I good at making presents, so my gift to you, Adrian, is my latest concoction; Hazelnut Creamcake. Enjoy, and have a happy birthday."

Everyone applauded. Adrian smiled, and suddenly noticed that Rosaline was looking at him, and was smiling back. Adrian blushed. He wasn't used to this kind of attention, especially not from someone as pretty as Rosaline.

"Beggin' your pardon, Friar," the Skipper of Otters asked, "but what exactly is Creamcake supposed to be?"

Friar Jon walked up to the Skipper, who was right across from Adrian and Danfur; Danfur, of course, happened to be the Skipper's son.

"Well, Skip," the Friar said, "it's actually just an ordinary hazelnut cake, made with cinnamon, some spices, a few candied apples and, of course, a lot of candied hazelnuts. It's called Creamcake because of my newest frosting; Cream Cheese Frosting."

Adrian was about to have a bite of his cake before he stopped and looked up at the Friar. Everyone was waiting for Adrian to take that bite before eating.

"What's Cream Cheese, Friar?" Adrian asked.

"It's not much to look at," the hare replied, "but that doesn't mean it tastes bad. In fact, it's delicious. All it is really is Meadowcream stirred thickly and added with sugar, to make it almost like butter. Then afterwards I add powdered sugar and a dab or two of honeyed milk along with it. That simple! Go on, try it!"

Adrian looked at the bite of cake at the tip of his wooden fork, shrugged, and plopped it into his mouth. An explosion of flavor burst into his taste buds, and he beamed like the sun at noon.

"It's delicious!" he said, "This is the best cake I ever had, Friar Jon! You really outdid yourself. Thank you!"

Anything further he had to say had to wait, because everyone else started cheering and feasting upon their own pieces of delicious cake.

Over on the other end of the table, Barm and Twill were eating their own pieces of cake with gusto, ignoring the silverware and eating it with their paws. Barm licked his whiskers clean of the delicious stuff when he had a sudden idea.

"Hey, Twill," he whispered, "Wanna toss some cake at big britches Friar Jon likka we did last time?!"

"Ooh boy!" the hedgehog dibbun squeaked, "I wanna get him in the bottims 'gain! I luv da look on hissa face las' time! Teeheeheehee!"

Both dibbuns got up on their bench and raised a fistful of cake each to aim at the unsuspecting Friar Jon. However, their smiles turned to looks of horror at the sight of Morwen directly in front of them, her face scowling in disappointment.

"One throw and it's a spanking and bedtime for both of you," she growled.

The sight of a mad badger is enough to make any brave warrior cringe in terror. Just imagine how scared the otter and hedgehog dibbuns were when they saw the mad look in Morwen's eyes. Their pieces of cake fell flat on their seats, and the two dibbuns quickly ducked under the table, heading for the safety of Rosaline's and Adrian's laps. Adrian put little Barm on the seat next to him, giving Morwen a wink to let her know that he wouldn't let the little otterbabe get into trouble. The badger grunted her response, and returned to her seat and the dibbuns she was attending to.

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In a forest far from Redwall, in a place beyond the great sea, all was calm and peaceful as the mid-afternoon days began to wane towards sundown. Not a sound could be heard as the sun drifted slowly downwards, the forest looking almost like a painting in its stillness.

It was quiet…too quiet…

A rumbling sound could be heard as trees parted from the girth of a massive creature. Birds took to the air as the monster in the forest rumbled as fast as its legs could take it, following the tracks of five individuals and the drag marks of a pair of large creatures being taken east. Blood stained the ground from one of the drag marks, signifying that whatever the intruders were carrying, it wasn't firewood from the forest.

Blood was in the monster's eyes as it ran as fast as it could towards the eastern shores. It grunted and growled as its mighty front and hind legs carried it swiftly across the ground, bringing it to its destination in seemingly record speed. Its eyes were misted over in red as it worked up a powerful rage, chasing its target with all of the frenzy of a Bloodwrath gone wrong.

As it reached the sands of the coast, it slowed to a stop, staring out beyond the water. It got up upon its hind legs and looked about, trying to spot the creatures that took what the monster loved dearly with all its heart.

It spotted it. Whatever it was, it was nothing like the creature had ever seen before. It was a gigantic wooden whale, its girth above the water's edges and floating as if it were hollow. Sprouting from its back were trees the size of redwoods, their massive trunks holding branches that extended from the creature's back. It was unlike anything the monster had ever seen.

It suddenly spotted what it was looking for, as it saw intruders rowing upon a tinier wooden whale, dragging a separate one using strange vines like spider webs. A pair of brown bundles were in this one, neither moving nor struggling as the intruders brought it closer to the big whale.

The monster growled as it saw one of the bundles struggle while more intruders attempted to drag them both up using the spider-web vines. One of the intruders struck at the bundle twice with a big stick, and the brown bundle lay still, revealing a furry brown arm with claws from within the bundle's reach.

The monster's eyes went wide, and soon, all was taken by the red mist. All that was on its mind was the great wooden whale, its mighty girth moving as its huge trees suddenly caught several black clouds, dragging it across the sea. It sucked in its breath and made a tremendous roar that shook the countryside, causing birds and beasts to flee from its mighty wrath. All it wanted was death…and revenge…

Furborgg was coming…

**Kerian**: Few have ever gone as far to the west as Green Isle, the legendary island of otters in the book _High Rhulain_. Fewer still know of the lands that lie beyond in that strange new world, or of the creatures. What kind of beast or monster is this Furborgg? What exactly is this giant wooden whale, holding great trees atop its back and carried by great black clouds? What was the creature that Furborgg so cared about that he would give into the cursed bloodwrath, know to all as the curse of the angered badger lords?

Ever since the book Rakkety Tam showed Redwall its first Wolverine, I always thought it would be awe inspiring to see a mighty creature such as that face off against a Badger Lord. Then it occured to me; what was bigger than a Badger and a Woverine combined? What else than this creature that is about to make its way east on a terrifying journey after the strange ship with black sails? Now, now; no spoilers for you. If you wish to review, keep your thoughts about what kind of creature is to yourself, though if you like you can put up a list of the three most likely things it could be (this will make sure that people who read the reviews don't come up and guess spoilers about the story and end up feeling a bit one-sided about the whole story).

Adrian has destiny written about him. That's all I'm going to say for now, but one will soon find that Redwall will need all the help it can get in this story. Until chapter 2, me out!

-Kerian

p.s. Barm and Twill were inspired by the infamous dibbun otter twins, Bagg and Runn, from Mariel of Redwall. Though they are different animals altogether, they will act very much like annoying brothers in this story. Poor mother Morwen. She's going to have her paws full with those two!


	4. Chapter 2

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**The Fallen Star**

**A Tale of Redwall**

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Salamandastron stood like a mighty citadel of the sea, the great mountain standing almost as high as the clouds. Smoke sailed up from the crater atop the mighty mountain of badgers, warding all vermin away from the mighty stone fortress within its depths. In truth, the mountain of Salamandastron was once a volcano; but its glory days of destruction and might, the fires within having been put out, was long gone. It was now ruled by the Badger Lords and their mighty hares, the legendary Long Patrol. Many a foebeast had mistakenly tried to take the mountainside, but were defeated by the stout-hearted Long Patrol and their mighty Badger Lords.

The current lord of Salamandastron was a mighty badger, whose forehead carried a birthmark first seen in his ancestor. His name was Morath the Moors, and all vermin trembled at the sound of his name. A mighty beast he was, the great grandson of the legendary Gorath the Flame, and the twin brother to Morwen of Redwall. A legend passed down by the mountain said that all of Gorath the Flame's legacy would carry his traditional forehead mark; a red discoloration of the forehead, resembling a flame. Though Morath's "flame" was nothing like his ancestor's, his color was much brighter, resembling more like a candle that had a flame that flickered larger than most instead of a mighty blaze. That was nothing, however, compared to his Bloodwrath, which was part of how he got his name.

Long ago, there was once a tremendous battle at a great ridge, where mighty vermin hordes attempted to defeat and enslave the woodlanders of Mossflower. In that battle, the legendary Lady Cregga Rose Eyes had managed to drive the enemy back, losing her sight in the process, and never again was able to live in the great Badger Mountain. Since then, the Ridge stood as a reminder for those who had died in the battle, and that good will always triumph over evil. Lady Cregga's mighty axe-pike, placed there as a reminder to all those who dared to defy peace, was still there to this day.

Not long ago, when Morath was experiencing his first years as Badger Lord, a mighty winter had sprung up and froze the countryside, turning the ridge and the land surrounding it into mighty moorlands that stretched all the way from the coast to the edge of Mossflower. At the time, a vermin warlord, a fox by the name of Geddra Foxburn, had decided to camp his horde there during the spring-winter, where they would begin to besiege Mossflower and cause terror later that year. They hadn't counted on being so close to the mountain, and they certainly didn't count on being spotted by Long Patrol runners, who reported it all to the mighty Badger Lord.

Morath, quick as a flash, took ten of his best fighting hares, his mighty war armor, and his legendary weapon; the Di-Blade, a two-bladed sword that acted as a powerful means of destruction and terror against foebeasts. With the odds stacked against them, Morath made his way to the vermin camp and almost single-handedly destroyed the lot of them, leaving only a few survivors, including Geddra, to run off and never return. Geddra had lost his tail as a sign of humility and had his sword hand maimed, so that he could never again be able to fight and threaten goodbeasts. Henceforth, Morath was named Morath the Moors, after the lands where he had beaten this mighty enemy.

Morath stared out onto the horizon, gazing across the dunes and moor lands that led straight to Mossflower Woods. He sighed as he gazed across the lands under Salamandastron's protection, dearly missing his sister greatly. He wouldn't show it though; a Badger Lord has great duties to perform, and couldn't be bothered by simply missing one's sister.

Morath left the room he was standing in, returning to the halls of Salamandastron. He brushed his claws against the stone of the halls, letting their cool surface brush against his fur and skin. He loved his mountain, more than anything else in the world…well, save for his sister of course. He'd do anything to ensure its safety, and to ensure the safety of all of those inside and outside of the great mountain.

On his way to the great Forge Room, he bumped into an ongoing young hare, who had turned the corner on his mad rush upstairs. The hare hit the ground hard, rubbing the back of his head in surprise. One look at who it was he bumped into and he jumped to his feet and stood straight, saluting the Badger Lord smartly.

"I'm sorry, Lord Morath sah!" he said, "Didn't mean to bump into ye, sah! I was on my way upstairs for the big campfire story, sah."

"Slow down, young 'un," Morath said chidingly in his big deep voice, bending down on one knee and gazing at the young one carefully, "You are Bragus, am I right?"

"Bragus Christopher Mcthorn, at your service, sah!" the young hare said.

"Just yes was enough, young 'un," Morath said with a smile, "You're Colonel Chris Mcthorn's boy, am I right?"

Bragus was about to answer, but a cocked eyebrow on Morath's face caused him to shut his mouth and just nod. He was still holding still, however, out of fear that he might do something wrong and get shouted at.

Morath chuckled at the sight the young hare made. "At ease," he said, "If I'm correct, you're birthday is coming up soon, right?"

After gratefully changing his position, Bragus nodded.

"That would mean that you'll soon be joining the Long Patrol soon," Morath said, "following your father's footsteps all the way. I remember when he was a young lad like yourself. He still is rather young for a Colonel, as a matter of fact; the youngest ever to get the rank. Perhaps one day, if you are lucky, you might just beat his record. Would you like that?"

Bragus nodded hysterically, his eyes beaming in delight of the thought.

"Then when the story is being told tonight, you'd better listen carefully," Morath said, "The history of Salamandastron is an important one. I want to make sure that all of the next generation of Long Patrol Hares knows a thing or two about it. I will be testing them when the day comes to choose your weapons. Am I clear?"

"Yes sah!" Bragus said with another salute. Morath's cocked eyebrow caused Bragus's hand to slowly come back down. Morath chuckled, placing a gentle paw on the young one's head.

"Go on, young Bragus," Morath said with a smile, "Do me a favor while you are there; save a spot for me to relax by the fire before I tell the story tonight; someplace where I can put my feet near the flames. You know how cold they can get. Run along, now!"

Bragus beamed like a midsummer's day, quickly running up the stairs and up to the top of the mountain. Morath sighed. _That one would make a fine Fleetrunner Scout one of these days_, he said to himself. He made his way to the Forge Room, where he would pick up his signature weapon, as well as a tablet that he had gotten from the vaults earlier that month.

As he walked into a section of the mountain facing the sea, he could not help but note that a chill wind was coming from the west. His fur stood up on end as he glared over the horizon from a window, keeping close eye to see if he could spot out any ships. When none came to sight, he continued his path, only to stop again when the same chill wind blew through another window.

_Mother Nature is not happy this night_, the Badger Lord thought.

* * *

The ocean tossed and turned as a great wind blew across the waves. Though there was no storm, summer winds coming from the west constantly caused this section of the great sea, the Rolling Ocean, to continually chop and have tremendous waves that break upon the shores. This causes the shores to have incredibly deep drop-offs, allowing large ships to come in and dock as close as the beaches.

As the winds continued their wrestling match with the waves, a mighty ship began to speed off towards the east. The ship was huge; like a gigantic whale from hell, with a hull built with enough timbers to have leveled down a forest. Five mighty masts stood at least a hundred feet high, with rigging that covered the tree-like masts like spider webs. A huge captain's deck, divided into three separate decks not including the wheel deck, stood in the back of the ship, with fins jutting outward like a tremendous whale's tail. The ship's masts, not including the bow-spirit and mizzen-mast, had at least two-to-three tremendous black sails, each able to carry the ship at great lengths across the ocean. Below, an average of ten decks, each divided out and used for different purposes, made up the entirety of the hull, with a very large sub-deck that kept the ship balanced in the waves. Extra supports by means of large buoys attached to the ship's sides kept the mighty thing from capsizing itself in the waves. The ship's bow contained an engraved name deserving for such a monstrous thing: _Hellgates_.

Standing at the bow, a mighty Pine Marten gazed at the open sea. The Pine Marten, Guldar Deadeyes, was the captain of the mighty vessel called _Hellgates_. Guldar watched with pride as his mighty vessel sliced through even the biggest of waves as if it were not but a calm day at sea. Guldar had put his heart and soul into all that was _Hellgates_, and he was proud of it.

Guldar was a frightening Pine Marten, as terrifying as much as he was deadly. He looked different than other Pine Martens though. While most had brown fur that helped blend with the surroundings on the forest floor, his was reddish-brown in color. He also had a large, black stripe that went down from the tip of his nose to the end of his big, bushy tail. Even his eyes were different, being a maddening orange color with distinct pupils, the orange parts shining with some kind of inner fire. The only thing he had in common with Pine Martens was the yellow "collar" of fur around his neck, which gleamed like honeyed cream. If it weren't for his stature as a vermin, one would almost consider him a handsome devil, though those that did put the emphasis to "devil" when speaking of him. Guldar wore a golden breastplate attached to a velvet cape, which helped conceal the saber hidden in a sheath on his back.

Guldar was unlike most Pine Martens. Pine Martens were normally land dwellers, enjoying the splendor of the forests and the shade of the trees, were vittles were plenty and the going was good. Not Guldar. Guldar was a Pine Marten born of the sea. Legend had it that he was descended from Ulbaz Madeyes himself, the legendary Pine Marten whose eyes had hypnotized an entire army of Monitor Lizards into helping him build the kingdom of Sampetra. Of course, Guldar's eyes couldn't hypnotize, but get him in the mood and one look would spell death to any beast who stared long enough into those black and orange orbs.

Long ago, Guldar was a lieutenant in a horde of the western lands. His mighty master had made him a lieutenant above all other Pine Martens because of Guldar's eyes, which would spell death to any beast who looked into them. Guldar was smart, cunning, and, above all, ambitious. He wisely never shot above his current rank, knowing well that his master, the paranoid wildcat as he was, would kill him on sight if Guldar even looked at the hordemaster's throne the wrong way.

When the mighty horde had conquered the lands of the west, they discovered a kingdom that had built a mighty ship, clearing all of the forests as they did. The horde naturally took it over, stealing all that they could and preparing slaves to help finish the ship and make it seaworthy. The hordemaster chose Guldar as the captain; he alone would be declared the emissary of the horde through the oceans. Being granted at least a hundred vermin to crew the ship, and two hundred more to act as a private army, Guldar set off to sea to conquer distant lands and bring plunder to his hordemaster's name.

That was many years ago, when Guldar was young and carefree; almost like a homing pigeon the way he moved back and forth to the horde's ocean base. One fateful day, the horde wasn't at their fortress anymore. Men had declared that the place was besieged by a great army, and the rest died through a horrible plague. Guldar knew wise not to stick around. Killing those who went ashore to get fresh weapons from the fortress, to ensure that infection wouldn't occur on his ship, Guldar got much in the way of supplies and timber from the surrounding lands, and left those shores, never to see them again.

Guldar had a different role now that he was master of his own ship. Since he was officially captain of his own, albiet small, horde, he decided to put them to work as they travelled the high seas. Travelling all throughout the western shores and the eastern islands, Guldar gathered as many mercenaries and bounty hunters as he possibly could, and declared that the Hellgates was to be a treasure ship; a ship that would carry only the finest of all things, whether it be good food, good wine, beautiful treasure, or even living treasure. Guldar was the collector of the rare, and his new guild of bounty hunters and mercenaries helped him get the job done. He had been declared by those on board as King of the Bounty Hunters, a title that suited him greatly.

He walked back over to the stern of the ship, passing rats, ferrets, weasels, stoats, foxes, and many other vermin that were proud to call themselves his crew. Every one of them had been either seabeasts or made into seabeasts at one point in time in their lives, and each one of them came from a different land than the other. Save for Guldar's original crew, barely a single one of his creatures could declare that they had come from the same land, the same forest, or the same island.

"Hogsteeth! Grimfeather! Get down here and report!"

Guldar's shouts immediately brought forth a big rat and a slim weasel from their places up in the secondary mast; Guldar's boatswains. They both saluted as they stood there in front of their Pine Marten captain.

"Yes, cap'n!" they both said.

"Give me a report on our position," Guldar said.

Grimfeather, a weasel with clothes covered in gull feathers, trophies from the many seabirds he shot in the past, spoke first.

"We are currently in da' south-most part of da' Rollin' Ocean, sire," he said, "We're on a course towards da' south seas, likes you requested."

"Head back north," Guldar said, "I want us heading on a course for Sampetra. I want to make sure that our cache is still there. Hogsteeth! You were leader of the raiding party; did anyone see us?"

"Not a soul, cap'n," Hogsteeth said. The big rat was a rather large rat, with a mouth full of teeth that had been askew from all of the different things he had tried to eat in the past, earning himself his name. "Da' forest was as silent as a sleepin' birdie! No-beast knows we was 'dere!"

"And…the bear?" Guldar asked, his right eye cocked dangerously.

"Dat stupid bear on'y got der shore when he sees his nest empty," Hogsteeth said, "By den we was already on our way to der ship! Dere's no way dat stupid bear could follows us!"

Guldar kept his eyebrow cocked for a few seconds before lowering it. Stupid, maybe, but relentless. Bears were more stubborn than any beast in the western world. Get one mad, and it would have to take either an army as big as the ocean, or a tremendous gorge as deep as the earth would allow, to shake it off. Guldar knew this for a fact; a scar on his arm alone was from when a bear tried to get at him. Unlucky for that bear, Guldar's sword was bigger than its claws.

"Good," Guldar said, "Get your men up on that mast to work tightening down the rigging. Grimfeather! Get over to the boatswain at the wheel and tell him to set a course for Sampetra Island. Once we get there, it's feasting for all of us. That should brighten the crew's day!"

"Aye, aye, cap'n!" both vermin said.

Guldar watched as the two wordlessly got to their chores. He let loose a reckless smile. The stupid bear. Had it have gotten to its nest earlier, it could have somehow managed to stop his men from bringing the ultimate prize. It was probably on the shores right now, roaring like a madbeast, unable to do anything except vent its rage on the air and kill its lungs while it was at it.

Guldar made his way to the captain's cabins, where he planned on getting a firsthand glimpse of his newfound prize. He chuckled menacingly at the thought of what the little scamp was doing now in its cage.

* * *

The mighty Furborgg had watched the mighty wooden whale as it headed south. His keen eyes kept track of the mighty thing as it made its way through the waters that wrestle the wind, the black clouds dragging it across as fast as the mighty winds.

Furborgg watched as the thing suddenly turned around, heading towards the north. Furborgg laid a careful eye on which way it was going, watching as the mighty wooden whale made its way to the north and the east.

With a roar, the mighty bear took to the water. Calling upon the might of the ancestors, the great bear dug its paws into the waves, pushing against them with all the might of a monster from the dark lands beyond. The waves were beaten aside like bushes as the mighty bear swam in the direction of the great wooden whale riding the black clouds.

Furborgg was coming…

* * *

Manchester Goodheart Mightybringer (Chester for short) sat upon his chair upon the beach just outside of Salamandastron. He was rather strange amongst hares, because he wasn't ambitious or battle hungry like most young ones. He was very bright, however, and used his mental gifts to every advantage he could find, particularly in discovering things.

Recently, he was messing around with his latest gadget; called a telescope. Combining different sized crystals helped enhance visual effects, enabling a beast to see further off into the distance. Chester had managed to build a huge one with the help of Lord Morath, its design meant to allow a person to look up into the stars with ease. Chester shifted himself around in his special seat, staring up into the night sky. He began turning the huge contraption around with a special crank to see the different stars, planets, and other glowing objects in the heavens.

Chester suddenly jumped as he felt someone's paw tap on his shoulder. Turning around suddenly, he had almost grabbed the small dirk in his belt until he noticed that it was just another young hare. He sighed and let go of the dirk handle before turning his seat around to properly face the young hare.

"Ginny!" he said, "Confound it, gel, what did you have to go and do that for, wot? I'm making a bloomin' big discovery an' all that, and you come up and tap me on the flippin' shoulder and scare me out of ten season's growth!"

"Nice to see you too, Chester," the haremaid said.

Ginny, or Gingivere Marigold Rosemane, was a young hare about Chester's age. She wasn't the prettiest of hares, herself admitting that she bordered the line of average girls, but she was one of the fastest of the bunch. Chester had once seen Ginny challenge Colonel Christopher Mcthorn, the Long Patrol's greatest runner during his time, to a race. Ginny almost beat the Colonel in a neck-to-neck race, only to be beaten as the Colonel made a mad sprint to the finish line. The fact that she could almost beat the Colonel, who wasn't even in the prime of life yet, was quite a stalwart feat for a girl her age.

Chester sighed before turning back to his telescope. "What do you want?" he asked as he busily moved the telescope around to check the night sky again.

"The big bonfire at the top of the mountain is going to commence soon," she said, "Lord Morath's declared that all young hares have to get to the mountain soon, and Sergeant Goodie said that if he catches any slackers they won't get supper for a week!"

Sergeant "Goodie," or Shamus Goodsbury Thropple, was a very terrible brute of a sergeant. The female hare was a legendary hare-boxing champion, descended from the famous Mad Maudie herself, an old companion of Lord Morath's ancestor, Gorath the Flame. When Sergeant Goodie said something, she meant it, and any arguments or excuses past the point would earn them a good boxing to the ears.

"I've got permission from Lord Morath to look at the stars tonight," Chester said, his eye peering through the end of the telescope, "I already finished my test last year with full colors. I've got nothing to fear of Sergeant Goodie today."

Ginny sighed. Her curiosity got the better of her as she came closer to where Chester sat. Chester was busily turning several knobs and dials, focusing the lens of the big invention of his as he tried fervently hard to gaze at an object high up in the sky.

"What are you looking at?" Ginny asked.

Chester turned and looked at Ginny, a serious expression on his face. He shrugged and got off of his seat, motioning for Ginny to hop on. Ginny did as she was told; peering into the end of the telescope at whatever Chester was gazing at earlier.

"See that star up there," he said, "the one in the middle of the lens?"

Ginny spotted the tiny thing; a star that seemed to glow stranger than the rest, as if it was a different color or something.

"I think I see the bally thing," she said, "Your point?"

"That star wasn't there three days ago," Chester said, turning the scope so that it pointed up and two the left about two to three degrees, "It was over there when I first spotted it. I thought it was a brand new star, though I'm not exactly sure where it came from, or how it got there."

"So what?" Ginny asked, "It's just a bloomin' star. What's the point of being curious about it?"

"That star isn't an ordinary star," Chester said, "It looked smaller three days back. I had to refocus my lens today in order to see it right. That star's getting closer for some strange reason."

Ginny's ears lifted up in mild surprise. How could a star get closer when their supposed to be in the night sky? That's impossible, isn't it?

"Do you think we should tell this to Lord Morath?" Ginny asked as she turned to face her friend.

"That's why I got permission to stay out here tonight," Chester said, "I've been keeping track of that star for three days straight now. I originally had asked Lord Morath if I could add it to the star maps, but after a while I was so busy trying to put it in a proper constellation that I kept getting the coordinates wrong. When I saw the coordinates were arranged in a pattern, I noticed then that the bally thing was moving."

"So, what now?" Ginny asked, moving off of the seat.

Chester took another peek at the star before coming to a decision. "I think we should let Lord Morath know about this," Chester said, "Let's get up there and report it."

Chester grabbed a piece of parchment from a rock next to his telescope, and quickly began to scribble another set of coordinates. When he was pleased, he quickly shifted the telescope and began locking its position so that the wind wouldn't shift it during the night, and motioned for Ginny to follow along. The two of them swiftly and wordlessly ran back to Salamandastron, where they would meet with Morath the Moors and tell him about Chester's discovery.

**Kerian**: The plot thickens as we include the Hares and Badger Lord of Salamandastron into the story, and you get your first glimpse of the villain of this perilous tale. Did I hear Deadeyes correctly? A bear? If that's true, Guldar probably is in hot water! And what could Guldar have in a cage in his cabin?

This book is going to have a few really interesting points in the story. One of them includes new technology (though not too sophisticated). The first is a telescope; an object made using two crystal lenses of different sizes that allows a person to see at a great distance. The size of this thing is rather sophisticated. It's probably as big as a badger, but due to its design it can only see as far as a regular handheld telescope could. Designed by Manchester "Chester" Goodheart Mightbringer of Salamandastron. I wonder what new technology we'll see later...

Well, this chapter has quite a few cool points in it, and the next one will come swifter than you know it. Until next time, me out!

-Kerian


	5. Chapter 3

* * *

**The Fallen Star**

**A Tale of Redwall**

_{3}_

* * *

Guldar sat comfortably on his mighty throne, enjoying the comforts of his mighty ship. Surrounded by beautiful things on all sides, he enjoyed the comforts of his mighty cabin, putting his feet up on cotton cushions of only the finest quality. Guldar was the very image of a spoiled tyrant, feasting on a roast sea-bird freshly shot down from the skies above.

Guldar's cabin was huge. Taking up the middle deck between his officer's deck below and his map room and armory above, the cabin had enough space to house probably fifty individuals or more and still have room for all the beautiful objects inside. That being said, only Guldar was allowed in his room, and anyone else inside were only allowed either by invitation or by rank, save for those who were forever quarantined inside his mighty cabin.

With no windows save for an extra room in the back, the cabin only took up a part of the space in the huge center deck. Everywhere else was a room meant either for archers, patrols, or other things of the like. To make up for the lack of light, a large chandelier rested at the ceiling, its design ensuring that, if it were to ever fall off, the flames would die out immediately afterwards. Guldar wasn't going to allow all of his pretty things, especially his new rug, go up in flames because of a broken chandelier.

His throne sat in the center of the room. Behind it was his mighty feather bed, enough to hold ten people comfortably, with purple and velvet red curtains as well as a goose down feather mattress, only the best of luxuries for the mighty Pine Marten captain. Sheets made of cloth and blankets made of velvet wool, each folded carefully and selectively thanks to the slaves on board the ship, perfected the ensemble that was his honor to sleep in every night as he pleased. Couches and desks, every one of them stolen from far off lands, adorned the room in a splendor unlike any other. Every last one of the treasures had been bolted down to ensure that they didn't get tossed about during a storm or by the relentless rocking of waves.

Finally, there was the latest addition to the ensemble; a skin rug, large enough to almost act as a sailcloth for any smaller ship. Its fur was soft, and the hide was tough, ensuring that the rug would be able to survive wear and tear if some beast were to continuously walk upon it with their dirty feet. The rug could have only had one origin; that of a grizzly bear.

After finishing the majority of the seabird, Guldar tossed the remains to the slave girls he had chained up in a corner of the room. The seven slave girls, chained in place on the walls, scrabbled for the meat, though one glare from Guldar's eyes and they immediately calmed down, steadily taking small bites off of the meal and passing it on to the others. The Pine Marten smiled. He originally had about twelve of the little beauties, two each of six different breeds, each one more pretty than the last. It was too bad that they never had a chance to get along. One died by being choked by her own chains, two more died at his own hand, and the other two he gave to the crew, and had never seen them again. The seven left were wary of Guldar and his temper, and did their best to keep themselves alive as long as possible.

Guldar leisurely stroked his foot across the bearskin rug, enjoying the soft touch of fur on his feet. He picked a tooth with a single extendable claw, spat out a chunk of meat, and leaned back in obvious comfort and prepared himself for a comfortable doze for the rest of the day.

His doze was interrupted by the sound of scratching and a squeal from the back room of the cabin.

The slave girls cringed as Guldar got up from his throne, his eyes shining angrily. He kicked the remains of seabird aside as he made his way to the door behind his bed. Entering the small room beyond, he glared at the frightened occupant inside of the strong metal cage next to the wall, growling menacingly as he did.

"What's the matter, child?" Guldar hissed, his face in a mock smile, "Are you scared? Do you miss your mommy? Are you afraid of what your new master is going to do to you?!"

The bear cub inside the cage cowered in the farthest corner, hiding itself from its monstrous Pine Marten captor. Guldar bared his fangs menacingly as he gazed over at the bear cub. Though by all means the cub was bigger than he was, at least half the size of a fully grown badger, Guldar knew for a fact that he could make a menacing appearance.

Guldar shook his head as if in mock disappointment. "Where are my manners?" he said, "I should have gotten you some vittles. I bet you're hungry, little cub, aren't ya?"

Guldar pulled out a seabird drumstick he had swiped from the carcass he had kicked aside earlier. The smell of the fresh animal wafted around the room, attracting the attention of the bear cub. The young bear lifted its snout, letting its nose sniff away as it sought the delicacy to the senses.

"That's right," Guldar said as the bear got closer, waving the drumstick close to the bars with every word, "Nobody's going to hurt you. Guldar's your friend, mate. This old Pine Marten wouldn't hurt a fly, see?"

The bear cub shuffled close enough that its snout was already up to the bars, its mouth drooling at the thought of feasting on the cooked meat. With a flash of lightning, Guldar had grabbed the bear cub's snout and pulled it straight through the bars, pinching tightly and allowing his claws to sink through the bear's flesh.

"Listen carefully, you little wretch," Guldar hissed as the bear squealed in pain, "On my ship, I only allow the toughest, meanest, most bloodthirsty vermin to board and become a part of my crew. If you want to earn your keep, you have to be tough, and learn to follow orders as well as learn to be a bloodthirsty savage! I'm keeping this roast leg, and any other vittles that dares come close to this door. If I hear another peep out of your mouth, there'll be no rations for a week! Am I clear?!?"

Though the cub couldn't understand the language of the bully, it understood the tone of voice. Its whimpering stopped, though tears flowed freely from its closed eyes as blood began to drip across its snout. Guldar sneered and extended his hand. With a flick of his muscle, his free paw's claws extended like razor blades. He snapped his forefinger across the bear's left eye, cutting a severe gash along the eyelid.

"Let this scar be a reminder that childish fears are not welcome aboard my ship," he hissed, letting go of the bear's snout and backing back from the cage. The bear slipped its snout back from the bars of the cage. The cub huddled into the corner once more; its forepaws covering its face as it lay there, sobbing quietly. Guldar grunted as he wiped his three-inch claws on a handkerchief; the claws being one of his many deadly assets. He retracted them into his fingers once more, and picked up the seabird leg he had dropped to the floor while disciplining the bear cub.

"Darling," said a sultry voice, "you should know better than to tease young ones like that. It's better to deal with them altogether."

Guldar turned at the sound of the voice at the door, his claws menacingly drumming the air.

"You know very well that there would be a reason why I haven't killed this little wretch yet," he growled, allowing one of his claws to extend enough for him to pick at his tooth and toss out a chunk of meat stuck inside, "I should remember to have my whip available to me, lest you forget your place, Vixen!"

The individual he was speaking to, Vixen, was a rare beauty among beauties. Some described her as a weasel with a rare case of severe beauty. Others claimed that she was a silky ferret, a sweet stoat, or even a skinny fox. Nevertheless, no one save a few could point out the origins of Vixen's race; only that she was beautiful enough to attract the attention of good creatures and vermin alike. Guldar was not fooled by her appearance; he knew that she was, in fact, a Minx; creatures notorious for their savagery and trickery, as well as their capabilities in hiding it all behind a mask of beauty and flattery.

Vixen was not a slave girl. The dark-blue minx had wooed and persuaded Guldar for years; long enough to receive a reprieve from that title long ago. Guldar believed that she was trying to woo him into a sense of insecurity, where she could get close enough and gain enough power that his role as her master would eventually have lost its advantages. Guldar, however, was no fool. Though he enjoyed beauty, and immersed himself in its entire splendor, he could tell the difference between a beauty…and a rat.

"Dearest," Vixen said, lightly pushing Guldar's claw aside with her finger, "I have no idea why you would need such a beast as this one. Young creatures have no interest to someone like you. I dearly hoped that you would make it a fur coat for your lovely maiden; bear cub fur is so very soft…not like the course hair of the mother creatu—gaah!"

A very long and lethal finger-claw, followed by its four brothers on Guldar's left hand, poked beneath the minx's neck. Vixen wisely kept very still, knowing full well what would happen if she tried to move away. Guldar stared angrily at Vixen, fixing his deadly gaze upon her yellow eyes, allowing his pointer finger to swerve dangerously around her fur-covered neck. She held still for what seemed to be a long time, with nothing but the sound of the waves outside and her own beating heart to break the silence.

Guldar's mouth changed from a scowl to a smile, his eyes losing their burning sensation. He let his claws retract themselves back where they belonged, and lowered his paw back down to his waist.

"No," Guldar said, shaking his head, "This beast is not to be killed. He may look like a little wretch, but even the mightiest of poisonteeth adders start out as tiny worms from the egg."

Vixen was about to question Guldar's words, when the seabird leg came tossing past her face. The minx nimbly ran off into her quarters, knowing full well to stay away from the captain in one of his rages.

"Stay back from this room!" Guldar shouted, "Who says that you can come and go as you please like a free beast, eh?! Don't forget, minx! You may not be a slave girl, but I still own you! Come anywhere near this bear cub again, and I'll rip off your hide and use it as a coat of my own! Ha hahahahaha!!!"

* * *

The bear cub let a tiny whimper escape its mouth as the door slammed shut. It did its best to lick its snout wounds, cleaning it off by licking its paw and rubbing it across the wounded surface. However, the little bear could do nothing about its eye. Though it could still see out of it, the eyelid had grown swollen due to the cut, and it did not dare open its eye lest the blood travel in and cause more pain.

The cub sniffed as it sobbed, halfheartedly poking the bars of the cage with a claw. It thought quietly about its mother, which led to even more sobs. It wisely kept quiet out of fear that his captor would return and hurt him some more. The thought of its mother's death still haunted his mind. Why were the spirits unkind to it?

It wished that its father was here…

The bear cub sobbed and whimpered softly, staring at the rolling ocean and the falling sun outside the window before crying itself to sleep.

* * *

When supper had finished, Adrian helped the other Redwallers clean up the mess. There was virtually nothing left of the Hazelnut Creamcake, which was a big hit with the young 'uns. The dibbuns had to be washed down like crazy before bedtime; they were so messy from the tasty food. Danfur was one of the unlucky ones on dibbun duty; a chore that required a lot of messy action as well as a love of water. Dibbuns never enjoyed baths, so when one was assigned to help washing, they were sure to get as wet as the dibbuns would.

"I'll see ya' later, mate," Danfur told Adrian as he followed the line of dibbuns following Morwen upstairs. Quick as a flash, he grabbed Barm and Twill by their tails, holding them both up in the air by their legs before they could escape. "Alright, you two villains! Where do ya think you're goin' eh?"

Barm struggled to try and get his legs free, while Twill attempted to curl up into a ball and rock back and forth, trying to spike Danfur's sides to get loose.

"We's goin' inna kitchens!" Barm squealed, "We's wants mo' cweamcakes!"

"Gonna ets 'em alla up!" Twill said, giving up on his useless attempt at getting free, "Gonna ets 'em all, an leaves none for yous! Teeheehee!"

Both Barm and Twill squealed aloud as Morwen scooped them both up in her paws.

"You wicked little rascals!" she growled, "You aren't getting any more of Friar Jon's Creamcakes tonight, nor any other night if I have my way. You get up and get washed up for bed or I'll hang you by your tails in the bell tower! Am I understood?"

Barm was cowering like a little babe; he sincerely loved his tail, as all otters did.

"Oh pwease, marm," he whimpered, "Usn's ment no harm. We's only foolin', right Twill?"

"O, go boil you head, Barm!" Twill said eagerly, "I wanna hangs up inna bell tower. 'Sides, I on'y gots a likkle tail. Can' even see it, won' be missin' it!"

Adrian, Danfur, and Daniel laughed their heads off at the little hedgehog's logic. Adrian and Daniel listened as Morwen kept scolding the little rascally dibbuns, with Danfur's laughter following all along the hall. Adrian and Daniel couldn't help but laugh some more at the comical sight the two dibbuns made every single day. The two of them were on the floor at the height of their hysterical laughter, their sounds of merriment echoing through Great Hall.

When they finally stopped laughing, Daniel hugged his sides in an attempt to speak normal past the aching laughter. "Ooh, boy," he said, "I remember when we used to be like that. Redwall was never safe when we were dibbuns, heeheeha!"

"Hahaha!" Adrian laughed, wiping a tear from his eye, "Little Barm and Twill look like angels compared to how we used to be. It's nice though that somebody's fulfilling our legacy for us. Hohoho, hahaha!"

They both stopped suddenly at the sound of a "hmph," a little ways away. Turning around, they saw three abbey girls their age, one of them being Rosaline. The oldest in that group, Marigold, was a very pretty, and rather proper, squirrelmaid, a fact that she seemed to love reminding all in her midst. Another was an otter maiden, Jarda, Danfur's second cousin.

"You would think that for one who just came of age you would be more mature, Adrian," Marigold said, twitching her tail gracefully from side to side.

"Having a good laugh at the past isn't immaturity," Adrian said, standing up in defense, "It shows that you can enjoy life. It's just…fun."

"Not like sticking your nose in the air at everything you see," Daniel said cheekily with a giggle, "Keep looking at the ceiling and you might run into something, like the walls!"

Adrian got a laugh out of that one. Even Jarda and Rosaline giggled at the comment, though Jarda was quickly silenced at the glare that Marigold gave her. She hmphed once more before walking up the stairs to the dormitories, followed closely by Jarda.

Rosaline gave Adrian a quick smile. Adrian winked at her before she sped off, following Marigold and Jarda.

"Those two boys are the same as they were as dibbuns," Marigold said, "annoying!"

"You know, they can be funny sometimes," Rosaline said in Adrian's defense.

"You're only saying that because you fancy him," Marigold said cheekily.

Rosaline didn't retort back. She quickly sped off to the dormitories without the two of them, muttering that she was going to help Morwen with the dibbuns.

"You know, they were actually kind of funny," Jarda spoke up. One look from Marigold silenced her. The two of them made their way up to the girls' dormitories, where the promise of make-up and other girly activities awaited them.

* * *

Adrian watched as Rosaline went up the stairs out of Great Hall. He sighed as he watched her go, and turned around, only to see Daniel looking at him cheekily.

"See anything pretty, Adrian?" Daniel asked in a sing-song voice.

Adrian scoffed, walking back towards Cavern Hole to help clean up after supper, "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Daniel said, "You looked like a hawk the way you were eyeing Rosaline up there. Let's face it; you like her, don't you?"

"I have no idea what you are…I'm…" Adrian found that he was at a loss for words. It was true; he had suspected that he did fancy Rosaline, but they were just friends. It wasn't impossible for him to like someone like her, but why now, when he was much older, when it could have or should have happened already? They had known each other a while. Why all of a sudden would he start to stare at Rosaline whenever she walked by?

Adrian sighed, rubbing a paw across his head in confusion. He was about to reply to Daniel's words when, all of a sudden, Ruff the mole came running out of the kitchens, stumbling into the two mouse friends. The three of them crashed into a heap, piled on top of another and groaning as if hit by a fallen tree each.

"Oop!" Ruff said, "Zorry, 'der Adren, zurr. Oim inna bit of a 'urry. 'Ere, let me 'elp ya' up, naow."

Adrian thanked the sturdy young mole as he helped him up. Daniel looked up from the floor in mock anger.

"Oh, sure," he said, "help the big come-of-age mouse up; nobody in their right mind would bother a little 'ole mouse like me, who's all tangled up in a mess on the floor."

Adrian smiled as Ruff helped Daniel up off of the floor. Daniel dusted himself off, which was followed by a couple of quick sneezes from both him and Ruff.

"What's the hurry, Ruff?" Adrian asked politely, "Is there a fire or something?"

"No, zurrs," Ruff said, "but iffen 'dere wer a foire, I wuddent 'ave 'elpen youse up; oid be too busy pattin' der flames offen me back."

Daniel shook his head in mock amazement. "Mole logic," he said, "one of the most sensible things on earth. Instead of honoring a mouse-of-age by helping him up first, you'd be patting the flames off of his and your back while I'd burn to death. Lovely."

"Well, oim zorry, zur Daneel," Ruff said politely, "Oid be juz noice to Adren. Oi meant no arffense."

"He's kidding, Ruff," Adrian said, "Seriously though, what's going on?"

"Moi dear ol' pap says dat zurr Grenwick Vole foinded a new star tonoight," Ruff said, "Zurr Grenwick sayin' dat all young 'uns licken aorzelves can all cummit ober to der gatehowse to sees it, burr hurr!"

"Boy that sounds like fun, alright, "Daniel said," Anything to get out of cleaning duties. Lead the way, Mr. Mole!"

"Burr, hurr," Ruff said, "Don't callen me Mr. Mole. Mr. Mole bees moi pap, burr aye!"

"You two go on without me," Adrian said, "I'll come along. Rosaline would want to see something like this!"

Adrian sped upstairs. Daniel couldn't help but whisper a joke about it into Ruff's ear, leading to a giggling fit from the two novices.

**Kerian**: Looks like our friends at the Long Patrol weren't the only ones who spotted the mighty star. And what's this about Adrian fancying Rosaline? I suppose we would have found out sooner or later, but the big question is; does she fancy him back? And what about our bear cub imprisoned by the monstrous Deadeyes?

It took a lot longer for me to finish chapter 4 than I thought (If I hadn't, you wouldn't be reading chapter 3. Now that's mole logic without the crazy speech!). Anyway, I plan on there being a few scenes involving the Redwaller trio (Danfur, Adrian, and Daniel) to continue from here. However, I did manage to notice that, save for his mischief streak, we don't know much about Adrian's personality. I wonder what kind of hero he's going to turn out to be...hmm. Until I reveal it in future chapters, your guess is as good as mine. I'm not going to spoil it. Tee-hee-hee!

Well, that was a more or less successful chapter. Until the next one comes along, me out!

-Kerian

P.S. I think that this scene between Barm and Twill is pure gold! It's been well known that otters were fond of their tails, but what about hedgehogs? Sure enough, their tails are so small that they can't even see them! Hohohoho! Well, I'd better get going. Chapters don't write themselves, you know...


	6. Chapter 4

**The Fallen Star**

**A Tale of Redwall**

_{4}_

* * *

The Great Sea was known by many to be the largest and most deadly ocean in any place where water could be found. With its many islands, some with darker shores than others, one had to be careful if they considered themselves a decent captain of any boat worthy of the high seas. Captain Floret was one such captain.

Floret was a wise mouse who knew more about the western shores and the great coasts of the Rolling Ocean than any mouse alive. He was a master of the high seas, known by many on the shores as a fighter during great wars. He was also a cautious fellow; even the simplest of cargo vessels could hide the identity of a vermin pirate ship.

Floret's ship, the _Turquoise_, was a simple trading vessel. Once before he had used the vessel in the Great War as a raiding vessel, used to steal the supplies and rescue the slaves of the villainous Dark Horde, a monstrous roving horde of more than a thousand vermin that had pillaged and conquered wherever they pleased. The _Turquoise_ did its job, but the action that captain Floret had seen had made him many seasons older than his crew, and already his fur had turned a silvery gray in his mid-seasons. This was why, when the Dark Horde had disbanded long ago, he had decided to become a merchant instead of remaining in the military. His loyal crew followed him on his adventures, remaining faithful to the captain that they followed to battle all those years ago.

Floret kept his hands on the tiller as his crewmen took to their duties. Their current voyage, on the outside, looked like a simple merchant voyage, including extra cargo that was a bit more valuable than usual. However, the merchant-style of the ship was a doppelganger for the real cargo; a high court official and his daughter. The court official was a squirrel noble who was to be an ambassador from the west to the northern islands, where many a folk, such as the great Hedgehogs of Peace Island, wished to ally with the Western Kingdoms. His daughter was to accompany him, and eventually learn her father's ways as an apprentice. The girl was certainly like candy to the eye. Even the captain, in his old and scarred state, had difficulty getting his eyes off of her. It was for that reason, not to mention their status, that the captain had ordered them both below decks at all times, and gave them access to his cabin at night. Though the men were not vermin, even peaceful beasts can become crazed when spending too long of a time out at sea.

A vole lookout watched the rolling waves of the ocean. Much of the area surrounding the ship was dangerous; the oceans always rocked and rolled by pounding winds, while pirates, mercenaries, and even sharks and other dangerous fish lurked in the waters, seeking to find easy prey in the form of the relatively peaceful vessel. There was also the fact that the boat, though large, was likely to be capsized by a giant fish or whale surfacing the waves. One was never too careful when sailing the Rolling Ocean.

Floret felt his stomach double-take slightly as a particularly big wave picked up their ship. It wasn't exactly seasickness; more along the lines of a queasiness with its uses. Floret found that his stomach would naturally react badly if really big waves happened to pick up in the area. Since that was all the likely, it had its great uses, such as providing a means to remind him to check on their guests.

"Bruno," Floret said aloud, "Take the tiller for me, lad. I'm going to check up on the ambassador."

"Aye, aye captain," a big, burly sea otter said. The captain allowed the sea beast to take the helm, steadying himself as he walked down the stairs towards the main deck. His men clambered about on all sides of the ship, towing down exposed cargo and keeping the ship on its steady course as the waves rocked and almost tossed the _Turquoise_ as if it were a piece of driftwood.

Captain Floret quickly assessed the progress of his men before heading into his cabin. As he closed the door, he took note of the scenery around him. The cabin was big, though not too large. It was big enough to provide decent comfort for two or more people if the case need be. Shelves permanently boarded into the walls, aligned with cupboard doors to keep the objects inside from being tossed around by the waves, kept his private charts, captain's logs, and other necessary equipment he would need on the high seas. A bed and a simple couch were the only furniture in the room, save for a private desk and chair. Both the bed and the couch were occupied by a pair of squirrels that were green enough to blend into the leafy habitats of the forests they originated from.

"Rise and shine, Sir Gustof and Madame Selene," Captain Floret said, "It is a beautiful day outside and the ocean is lovely. It is time to see your beautiful faces out in the sunshine."

Sir Gustof sighed, turning his attention to the mouse captain. Captain Floret noticed that the squirrel's eyes were very red from seasickness and lack of sleep.

"I appreciate your attempts to make us feel better, good captain," Sir Gustof said in a tired voice, "but I am afraid that it will not work. My daughter just dozed off due to lack of sleep, and I haven't slept a wink of sleep last night. How much longer before we are off of these cursed waves?"

"The Rolling Ocean stretches far, my lord," Captain Floret said, "Even I get queasy here sometimes. Don't worry. These waters do not stretch everywhere. We will arrive upon safe waters soon; the next area on our course is an area called Ballast Cove, the last free port before heading north. The Rolling Ocean stops well before we arrive there."

"That's a relief," Sir Gustof said before grossly belching in his sickness, "I don't think my daughter can take much more of this. She was always a frail creature, but very bright. I felt that taking her to the north will help her get away from the reconstruction efforts from the wars."

Captain Floret nodded in agreement. "Wars haven't touched the northlands in many seasons," he said, "I'm sure that she'll do fine. However, I can't help but notice that you seem a bit overly concerned about your daughter. Forgive my manners, but is everything alright?"

Sir Gustof sighed, reaching over to the bed and stroking his daughter's back. "My wife was a freedom fighter long ago during the Great War. Though she was a veteran and a survivor, she suffered several wounds that easily took a great toll on her life. Childbirth with young Selene had caused much more damage to her and left her in a state of permanent weakness. We kept her in bed for the last three years of her life. It was a tragedy when she died on my Selene's birthday. I do my best to care for my daughter as much as I can. The war's reconstruction efforts have troubled her greatly, which is why I am becoming an ambassador for the Northern Isles, where the land is untouched by war."

Captain Floret nodded his head. "I understand completely," he said, "I lost my own son in the war, so I know how it feels. It's good to get away from it all every once in a while."

Captain Floret stepped up to Sir Gustof and knelt down so that he could be eye level with the seasick squirrel. "Here's a little tip for you if you believe you'll be out of trouble when we get you to the Northern Isles," he said, "Sometimes the best kind of peace is one that you don't have to worry about losing. The Northern Isles are notorious for pirate attacks. I don't think that the Northern Isles are what you want for your daughter."

Sir Gustof sighed and shook his head chidingly. "Captain Floret," he said, "Peace Island is a secret place that no vermin has ever disgraced by walking upon. How could we possibly have to worry about pirates?"

Captain Floret decided not to answer that question. Both he and Sir Gustof were suddenly distracted from their conversation as several thumping sounds hit the cabin walls. Screams from outside drew Captain Floret's attention to the door. The vole lookout came rushing into the cabin, clutching an arrow protruding from his left arm. With a quick snap, he took off the shaft, leaving the head in his arm until he could receive medical attention for it.

"Captain Floret!" the vole said, "We're under attack! Pirates have come up off of our starboard flank!"

"Pirates?!" Captain Floret growled, his hand flickering menacingly towards the hilt of his rapier blade at his side, "There weren't any pirates in these whereabouts for years. We're too far north for their kind. Who is it? Did you identify the ship?"

"Yes captain," the vole said, followed by a hard swallow, "I recognized it all too well. 'Tis the boat of the long dead Horde Warlord, Gaterrag Strugg! 'Tis the Hellgates, sir, and she's gaining on us!"

* * *

Greenfang watched from the bow in contempt as a small vessel tried its best to scurry away from the mighty Hellgates. The ferret officer gazed long and hard at the occupants of the vessel, smiling as he recognized the design of the simple ship. Although the war was long over, even he could identify the design and paint of a Freedom Fighter vessel.

"Ahoy, mates!" Greenfang shouted to the rat crew behind him, "Look'ee what we got 'ere! Looks like we got ourselves some ol' friends invitin' us over for tea n' biscuits!"

The crew laughed at Greenfang's joke, mostly out of loyalty to the officer than out of humor. Greenfang may not have had the deadly gaze of their captain, but his barbed whip and nasty temper were enough to make any rat, weasel, or stoat under his command obey almost every word he spoke

"Gorril," Greenfang beckoned to a small rat with a tattoo of a red scar across his left eye, "Go fetch 'da other officers, and let his highness, 'da King of Bounty Hunters, know 'dat we have a fresh quarry to hunt."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Gorril shouted, quickly getting to work.

Greenfang kept an eye on that one. Gorril was known to be the most loyal of the lower ranks. Officer material, that one. Had it not have been for Greenfang's own ambition, he would recommend the young rat. Too bad though; such was life aboard the ship called Hellgates.

Gorril was swift to obey Greenfang's command, though not without quickly spitting over the side. The rat hated having to run errands for the stumpy ferret officer. By all rights, Gorril should be in charge of that stupid ferret; it was his right by blood. According to the Code of the Hunters, a Bounty Hunter who dies gives his blood to his son, and all his possessions along with it. Gorril's father was such a Bounty Hunter, who became an officer under Guldar's high command. He had it all; wealth, slaves, a decent reputation amongst their Horde; anything and everything his own son could desire. Neither could expect, however, that his father would be framed by an ambitious ferret who murdered him in his sleep, taking all that the malicious bounty hunter owned as his own.

All, that is, except for Gorril's father's blood.

This was why the tattoo of a scar was across Gorril's left eye. It was a tattoo stained in his own father's blood; a reminder of his heritage, his rights as a Bounty Hunter amongst the Horde of Guldar Deadeyes, and of his promise to his slain father that blood shall be repaid in full after that day.

Gorril was so busy seething that he didn't notice the tail that stuck out in the shadows and tripped him flat on his face. He was about to growl and spit filthy oaths at the owner of the tail when he noticed the black and furry owner of the camouflaged appendage.

"Lord Shadran," Gorril said, quickly striking his chest with his fist and bowing his head to the dark weasel before him, "Forgive me, my lord, I did not see you there."

Shadran was by all means Guldar's most trusted officer, as well as probably the most feared bounty hunter on the entire ship. Some say that he was a mixed breed, a cross between rat and weasel that made him difficult to identify as both. Other say that he was a mutant, born on a starless and moonless night that made his fur appear as if to absorb the light and leave not but blackness in its wake. Some even further suggest that Shadran was given to a witch doctor, who turned his fur so that it would be as black as the bottom of the ocean depths, where no sunlight could penetrate and where no hidden predator could be seen.

Nevertheless, the weasel was legendary for being a deadly assassin well before he joined Guldar's ranks. Rumor had it that he had murdered more people than the Dryditch Fever, all slain in different ways, each more gruesome than the last. Guldar was the only individual he feared, and was also the only individual he respected. Shadran took the Code of Hunters seriously; he invented almost half of the rules involved in its creation.

"A clumsy and unaware hunter becomes the hunted by its prey," Shadran said in his dark and malevolent voice, "You should know this more than anyone, rat. Where are you off to?"

Gorril chose his words carefully. To speak as if a Bounty Hunter, especially one of high rank, was an equal to one such as him would prove lethal. He didn't want to die before conducting his revenge on Greenfang.

"Lord Shadran," Gorril said, "Greenfang has instructed me to gather the officers, and to see his highness. A freebeast ship was spotted off the port bow."

Gorril was quick for a rat. It was an attribute he had gained from his father. However, Shadran was quicker. Even though Gorril managed to jump back enough to not get the brunt of the blow, Shadran's kick sent him back a few feet away from the cabins where Gorril was heading. The rat rubbed his side as he got up, barely keeping a grip on his anger as Shadran sneered at the young rat.

"The right is not yours," he hissed, "You are no bounty hunter. Nor do you have any true rank. You are an outcast, and an outcast has no right to speak to his highness. Until you perform your blood ritual, you are not permitted to do more than obey his highness' commands. Go and get the officers. I will tell the king."

Without another word, Shadran slipped away towards the Captain's cabin, leaving an angry Gorril to nurse his pride and fetch the other officers at Shadran's command. Though Gorril was mad, there was wisdom and truth in the bounty hunter's word. Gorril had to kill Greenfang, one way or another, in order to be recognized as honorable enough to accomplish certain important tasks on board the Hellgates. Gorril wouldn't stay mad with Shadran for long; in truth, Shadran was Gorril's greatest ally, like a mentor who gives lessons never noticed by wandering eyes. Gorril had relied much on Shadran's words in the past; they never failed him yet.

* * *

The _Turquoise_ turned about face as the _Hellgates_ suddenly came up from out of nowhere from the south. Bruno the otter heaved on the tiller with all of his might, almost breaking the rudder off as he tried to turn the Turquoise against the wind so it could escape. Though the small ship could never outrun a mighty ship such as the Hellgates, against the wind it had a bigger chance, seeing as it was smaller, lighter, and had less surface area for the wind to push against. Bruno turned the ship to the east, feeling the wind pound against his brown fur as he ducked a few arrows from the monstrous vermin ship.

Captain Floret came up to the tiller of the Turquoise, grabbing the tiller from Bruno and quickly attempting to maneuver the ship away from the monstrous behemoth behind them. He immediately took charge and began shouting orders.

"All hands, gear up!" Captain Floret shouted, "Bruno! Distribute the weapons to the crew! Gregory! You and five others start rowing your lives out below deck! Jeff! Get back up the mast and tell me what that ship is doing! Get going!"

"Sir, yes sir!" Jeff the vole lookout shouted. The vole quickly climbed up the mast with his injured arm behind his back. Crewmembers right and left were getting weapons from Bruno the otter, with archers returning whatever fire they could to the massive ship behind them. The vole got up on top of the mast and began tracking the ship's position and judging how close it would be before coming upon them.

Sir Gustof came up on deck next to the captain. Captain Floret looked angrily in his direction before returning his gaze straight across the bow of the _Turquoise_.

"It's too dangerous for you to be out here, Sir Gustof," Captain Floret said as he brought the ship to a sharp turn to avoid an onslaught of arrows.

Sir Gustof held onto the ship hard, using his natural squirrel grip to keep him steady. "What is going on?" he asked, "Shouldn't we be heading for safer waters? There should be an armada near Ballast Cove!"

"Aye, an armada," Captain Floret said, "but it's an armada of fishing boats equipped with militia. Sure, it might keep any smaller vessel at bay, but none can stand against the might of the _Hellgates_!"

Captain Floret beckoned behind him. Sir Gustof's eyes became as wide as dish plates at the sight of the mighty vessel in pursuit.

"Quite right," Sir Gustof agreed, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Absolutely," Captain Floret said, "Go back to my cabin and push aside the bed that your daughter sleeps on. Pull back the rug and you'll find a trapdoor. The door leads to a smuggler's hold that was there during the old days when the old Horde had control of the coast. I'll send someone to cover your tracks. You should be safe in there."

Sir Gustof was about to protest, but as an arrow suddenly grazed past his ear he suddenly lost any sense of protest that was in him. He gave a quick nod of agreement to the captain and then ducked back inside the cabin. Captain Floret continued his attention on the open sea, hoping and praying that he could find a tower or something in time to save them from obliteration or capture at the hands of the vermin-controlled _Hellgates_!

* * *

The two ships sailed along the waves of the Rolling Ocean: One chasing, the other fleeing. The _Turquoise_ was quite a sight; a small, tiny ship sailing as if the sea were about to swallow it, while a massive terror of a ship, the _Hellgates_, was following within its wake. Arrows were shot across both sides as the ships continued their mad flee and chase routine. Though the _Turquoise_ was smaller, it was also easier to maneuver, and Captain Floret took every advantage of that attribute.

Guldar Madeyes looked upon the small merchant vessel with relative distaste from his view on the bow of his mighty ship. He was usually uninterested with dealing with small ships, even if they were from the old freebeast navy during the Great War. However, he knew for a fact that Captain Floret had a very popular standing amongst political members. If Guldar could remember correctly, the _Turquoise_ was once a blockade runner due to its small size. Many a renegade politician or high standard noble had travelled upon its decks in the years past. Even if the _Turquoise_ was without anyone of value, Captain Floret alone was enough for a very valuable ransom.

"Let them go for a little ways," Guldar said, much to the surprise and agony of the crew.

"But why chief?" an unfortunate rat asked before being socked in the face by his captain.

"Shut your trap!" Guldar said, "I said let them go for a little ways. We can't properly catch a ship and have good hardworking slaves when they are all dead from your arrows, can we? Besides, I want that ship intact if we have the chance."

Greenfang the officer walked forward with a look of confusion on his face.

"'Ow are we gonna catch 'dat ship intact, chief?" Greenfang asked.

Guldar's face beamed in delight, as if he was waiting for Greenfang to ask that question. The vermin aboard Guldar's ship knew wisely that when Guldar beamed like that, it either meant that something fantastic was in store for them, or that the person who was stupid enough to ask the question was going to get the deadly gaze of their master.

Lucky for them, it was the former.

"Load the Whale Spear!" Guldar growled.

* * *

Captain Floret kept the ship in its zigzag formation even after the arrows stopped raining down. Something told him that things weren't over yet. Whether the pirates decided not to waste any more arrows, or that their prey wasn't worth the pickings, he didn't want to find out.

"Cap'n Floret!" Bruno the Otter shouted, "Cap'n, look! They stopped followin' us!"

Captain Floret turned around and saw, to his astonishment, that the massive ship had indeed stopped following them. It was already about several hundreds of yards behind them, its sails folded down as if it was completely ignoring the ship it was originally chasing.

"We did it, mates!" Captain Floret shouted, "We beat the _Hellgates_! Let's get this tub where she belongs, and grog all around!"

The beasts shouted and praised their victorious captain. Captain Floret was proud of all of them. They had achieved the impossible; they beat the world's biggest vermin ship!

Captain Floret's smugness was instantly replaced with fear as a very powerful sound like a thunder crack shot out across the ocean. Floret turned around to see what looked like a large arrow being shot from the bow of the monstrous ship, its tail dragging a long cord behind it. The arrow shot through the air before coming straight down like a hawk, creating a whistling sound as the wind shot through its heavy feathered shaft.

"Everyone get down!" Captain Floret shouted as the monstrous weapon came down from the sky.

The beasts jumped aside, but one of them wasn't fast enough. Against all odds, the arrow shot down and pierced through the top deck, also driving itself through the unlucky body of a shrew who had been petrified by the mighty weapon. The barbed shaft of the mighty spear-like projectile quivered once before being tugged tightly by the long and thick cord attached to its feathered shaft. The ship was suddenly tugged back towards the mighty vessel that had been chasing them.

The _Hellgates_ had won…

**Kerian**: It has been forever since I updated this, but any fan of The Fallen Star deserves it. I might actually work on it some more if I read a bit more of one of my favorite author's works (I speak of Brian Jacques of course) as inspiration for the rest of the plot. Once I do succeed, this story is going to be better taken care of. I assure you.

Alright, so we see the Turquoise and the Hellgates locked in combat. I was proud of this chapter in particular. Brian's ship battles are excellent, so I wanted to do justice to his work. Of course, the Whale Spear was a must have for a big ship like the Hellgates. If you've ever seen a whaler, you'll know that they are huge (they have to be in order to drag off the carcass of a whale, or it would probably capsize or even get stuck while trying to drag the whale back to port). Also, it's obvious that if I'm going to add something as high-tech as a telescope to this story I might as well add something like a gigantic crossbow, right?

Well, on to the next chapter...which may take a while. You guys had better be hoping that I get some inspiration soon, or I won't be able to write anything good for a long, long while. So, until next time, me out!

-Kerian


	7. Chapter 5

**The Fallen Star**

**A Tale of Redwall**

_{5}_

* * *

Adrian looked up and down all the dormitories for Rosaline, but couldn't find her anywhere. It was rather strange that she wasn't in one of the girl dormitories where she would have gone after dinner; all he found there were Marigold and Jarda, who were rather indignant about being interrupted by a boy they had just chided earlier. She wasn't in the dormitories where the dibbuns slept either; nor was she in Badgermum Morwen's room, though it was obvious that Morwen could use all the help she could get with Barm and Twill, who were currently using one of her shelves as a climbing tree.

"OUCH! Come here, you little vermin rascal," Morwen had managed to prick her finger on one of Twill's spines, "As you can see, I'm too busy right now to know where Rosaline is. Try looking in the Infirmary. She could be there helping Nursemaid Ursula with changing the bed sheets again. OW!"

Adrian didn't bother sticking around. Knowing very well that the two dibbuns were in trouble, he quickly exited through the entrance, doing his best to stifle his laughter as Morwen began raving at the two little ones. Of course, Barm and Twill both saw it all as a fun game, and, even as Adrian made it up to the Infirmary, the bickering and shouting of the Badgermum could be heard.

Slightly chuckling as he opened the door to the Infirmary, Adrian immediately spotted Rosaline tending to the sheets. Opening the door all the way, he got to take in the clean room and spotted Nursemaid Ursula, Danfur's wizened mother, lying asleep on her rocking chair. Careful so that he didn't disturb the old Otter maid, he gently knocked on the door.

Rosaline jumped, caught off guard from the noise. She turned and smiled when she saw that it was Adrian; her hand over her breast as a result of her fright.

"Oh, Adrian," she said, "You frightened me for a moment there. Things were so quiet that I didn't expect anyone coming up."

"Sorry about that," Adrian said, "Hey, Bellringer Grenwick managed to spot a new star in the sky. He's been asking the young 'uns to come and have a look. Care to join in?"

Rosaline sighed and stood up. "Well, I wouldn't mind," she said, "It would be nice to look at the night sky for a change instead of spending most of the night in a dusty, old dormitory like I usually spend my evenings. Care to walk me down?"

Adrian bowed. "Any knight of Redwall will not pass up the opportunity of escorting his lady in waiting," he said cheekily.

Rosaline giggled. Hand in hand, the two friends made their way downstairs, enjoying the time spent between the two of them as they made their way to Great Hall, and from there to the abbey grounds outside. Adrian secretly enjoyed holding Rosaline's hand. He only wished that he could do it more often.

He suddenly felt rather awkward for no reason at all. The silence between the two of them was starting to feel staggering. Not knowing whether or not she felt the same way, he decided to spark up a conversation between the two of them.

"So…uh…that was some party, wasn't it?" he asked.

Rosaline nodded. Her gaze had turned away for the time being. Not seeing her face made Adrian feel rather nervous; not knowing her look or her mood at all. He wasn't sure what to do next, or what was wrong. All that he knew that he felt rather nervous and awkward for some strange reason, and he couldn't pinpoint the cause of it.

"Well, now. Would you look at those two lovebirds wandering down the hallway?"

The mood had changed from awkward to downright embarrassing. Both Adrian and Rosaline recoiled when they heard Marigold's haughty words. The squirrelmaid tossed her hair to one side and smiled rather cheekily as she walked between the two of them, her tail flickering impishly.

"You would think that the two of you would at least get a nest…and not let the rest of us notice your foolish antics," Marigold sneered.

Adrian growled. Rosaline stayed silent. Marigold simply smiled and fluttered her tail before wandering off towards the entrance to the abbey grounds outside.

The two friends stood in the hallway next to the Tapestry of Martin the Warrior, completely silent and rather embarrassed at what just happened. Adrian didn't know what to do at this point; whether it was a good idea to say something to cheer Rosaline up or not. Finally, after a few more tense moments, he spoke.

"Why can't that Marigold leave us alone?" he asked, "I swear…the way that cheeky little—"

"She happens to be my friend, you know," Rosaline countered before Adrian could finish, "She may have her…downsides, but there are some good things about her too…you've just got to get used to her. That's all."

Adrian cocked an eyebrow. Why did she speak in Marigold's defense? He knew better than to ask. Hey may have been young, but he did have some pretty decent common sense, which told him that it would only spark up an argument. From the look of Rosaline, that argument was not needed.

"Why don't you go on ahead without me," Adrian said, "I'll…catch up in a bit."

Rosaline nodded her thanks before silently leaving, taking one last look at Adrian before she turned the corner into Great Hall and made her way to the entrance to the grounds outside. Adrian silently cursed himself. It was too plainly obvious that he fancied Rosaline, though it didn't take Marigold's arrival to cause the moment that they had to collapse. Why did he get so nervous? Was it normal to feel that way when one fancied another? So many questions were reeling around in his head, and the speed at which each one moved was enough to give anyone a headache.

He sighed. Leaning against the wall, he looked up at the tapestry that hung on the hallway that led to Great Hall. It was the famous tapestry sown by ancient hands, depicting an even older tale that involved one of the greatest founders of Redwall Abbey; Martin the Warrior.

Any boy, be he mouse, squirrel, hedgehog, or even mole was fascinated by this legendary figure. Adrian himself knew much about the hero that helped build Redwall Abbey with his own two paws. Martin was once a mighty warrior of the north, whose ancestors were legends of the sword who lived by honor and freedom. When he first came to the region of Mossflower, he found a land enslaved by a horde of monstrous vermin; the entire countryside under the grip of a mighty wildcat brood. With the help of many of the woodlanders, including the infamous Gonff the Mousethief, Martin soon embarked upon a journey that granted him alliance with powerful Badgers, earned him the respect of many a countryfolk, and also granted him a mighty weapon; his legendary sword, Ratdeath. Martin swiftly defeated the wildcat queen, Tsarmina, and her horde of rats, stoats, weasels, and ferrets, and his freedom fighters brought the monstrous vermin fortress of Kotir to the ground, building up Redwall near the remains.

Of course, like all stories, Martin's seemed doomed to come to an end once he decided to forsake the ways of the Warrior and hang up his sword. However, such was not the case, for his legacy was swift to live on in many forms. From the great Dandin down to the mighty Mattimeo, from Triss to the Taggerung, many a soul was touched by the shade of the fallen hero, and soon became the legendary Warriors of Redwall; powerful guardians forever entrusted with the care of the noble mouse's great sword. However, there was such peace in Mossflower country that no one had ever come close to holding the sword in a hundred seasons…well, save for cleaning it of course.

Adrian stared admiringly at the beautiful weapon, which hung on an iron rack just above the picture of Martin the Warrior. Such a beautiful blade it was; truly a dazzling sight regardless of its duty to take away the lives of others. Adrian could easily see his own reflection in the silvery metal; its polish proving well to ensure that the blade withstood the test of time. Adrian was tempted to reach up and touch the hilt of the mighty weapon, but he knew better, instead letting it rest upon the rack from whence it sat.

"Oh, Martin," Adrian said aloud, "I bet you never had any girl troubles, did you? Knowing your history, just about any mousemaid would simply fall into your arms without another care in the world, wouldn't they?"

Martin's figure in the tapestry kept its smile, its eyes staring up at the young mouse. Adrian knew that it was rather silly to speak to a tapestry of a long-forgotten warrior, but he felt that doing so was rather calming; as if he was actually speaking to the warrior in person. Sure, the tapestry didn't reply back, but, somehow, Adrian always felt better after saying a few words to the hero of the abbey. Tonight was no exception.

"Thanks, Martin," the young mouse sighed, "Your presence alone is enough to make me feel better. Perhaps I'm still just too young to worry about girl troubles for now. Oh well…See you later, friend."

Martin was as silent as always as Adrian left the Tapestry to return to the others outside. However, as Adrian left, he did not notice a loose pebble from one of the abbey stones fall and strike Martin's blade. The resulting sound that echoed through the halls was like a tiny explosion of thunder, like the distant felling of an oak tree or a lightning strike on a rock in the open sea.

Morwen poked her head out of her room with Barm and Twill squirming between both of her mighty arms, completely immobilized by the girth of her limbs. She gazed long and hard for the source of the noise, though all that she caught sight of was the pebble at the bottom of the tapestry.

"Gorath's stripe," she said, "Either a storm is coming early this summer to Redwall Abbey, or my mind is growing old and I'm hearing things."

"You bee's hearin' t'ings alright," Barm squeaked, "You's hearin' two likkle dibbuns fightin' for fweedom!"

"Aye!" Twill shouted, "Fer fweedom!"

"By the time I'm done with you both, you'll be wishing for freedom from your dormitories for at least six seasons," Morwen growled.

* * *

Morath the Moors gazed down upon the young hares that all gathered around on the peak of the mountain. All around him, young Salamandastron hares; potential recruits and suitable warriors-to-be for the Long Patrol; sat eager to watch the mighty Badger Lord tell them the great tale of the founders of Salamandastron. He sighed and treated the young hares with a great big smile. They all beamed back, taking the smile as a good sign and that the story was soon to begin.

Bragus, the young hare from earlier that day, waved a paw at the Badger Lord and patted a spot beside him where he could sit down, right next to the fire. Morath smiled and promptly approached the young hare, sitting next to him and causing all of the other young hares to feel downright jealous. Bragus merely beamed; it was quite an honor getting the chance to sit next to a Badger Lord.

Morath cleared his throat, causing everyone to turn their heads in his direction. Glad that he caught their attention, he began to speak up in his mighty Badger voice, his words capturing the gazes of all who sat and listened to the great Morath.

"Salamandastron is as ancient as the earth itself," Morath said, opening his arms wide to give emphasis to his words, "Long ago, when our world was young, Salamandastron was once a fiery mountain that belched ash, flame, and molten rock; like a mighty dragon! Though it has long ceased its great rumblings, the fire within the great Salamandastron Hares and their Badger Lords has always been kept as strong and as bright, and has yet to waver even to this day.

"The warriors of Salamandastron always had one goal in mind; protection of the coast. We always have lived here for the sole purpose of defending the coastlands from our enemies, be they as dim-witted as Toads or as cunning as the Searat Pirates who hunt in the west, across the sea. Salamandastron has been our fortress home even before the days of Lady Sable Brock, our thus far earliest recorded Badger Lady of the mountain. Salamandastron has had many foes, and has been besieged many times in ancient days past; very few is the number of times that Salamandastron has been so much as penetrated by enemy forces, and thus far only once has it ever been recorded to have been taken by enemy hands. However, in every case the forces of the Long Patrol Hares, alongside the defenders of our great ally, Redwall Abbey, with other combined forces of good and the righteous, have managed to take Salamandastron back, and have proven time and time again to never be beaten or back down from a fight.

"My ancestor, Gorath the Flame, proved also that Badger Lords are loving and tender creatures as they are mighty warriors. The great Tung, his powerful pitchfork weapon as well as the item he used for his constant farming across Salamandastron, which we still do today, still sits in my armory. When he first came to Salamandastron, he proclaimed that Tung was foremost a tool of tilling; of peaceful times. However, should the need arise, it could just as easily become a powerful weapon of war that could easily kill any vermin that stood in his way.

"Badger Lords are not the only great warriors that make this mountain proud, but also the Hares that fight by their side. The Long Patrol has had many a hero; many more so than even I could count. From the great General Dorothea Dillworthy; commonly known as Dotti, founder of the Long Patrol; to Mad Eye Maudie Thropple, boxing hare and companion of my great grandfather, Gorath the Flame. What made them heroes was their determination, their fighting spirit, and, most of all, their absolute refusal to give up hope. As potential recruits, it is these three simple principles that I ask you to follow. Sure, you may not become a hero in your lifetimes; in this day and age, I can't guarantee that you will even see any action on the field. However, you should never assume the worst; always look on the bright side of things, obey your trainers, and as you learn the skills of the warrior you should always be sure to remember what you are fighting for. Remember; a warrior's strength does not come from his skills, but from his courage and his determination to do what is right."

All throughout the speech, the young hares listened to every word with wide eyes and dumbfounded looks. Morath's deep voice, combined with the dancing light of the bonfire in the center of the peak, mesmerized by his words. They took in every single detail, every single syllable that the great Badger spoke to them, and they all began seeing dreams and visions of mighty battles of ancient days past, where mighty Long Patrol Hares drove themselves headlong into the fray; fighting monstrous Toads, deadly rats, and freeing goodbeasts from an all manner of nasty vermin that slunk about within the dark crevices of the world. When Morath was done, everyone breathed a sigh of astonishment, and some of the young hares cheered the mighty Badger. Morath took a light bow, and directed one of the Long Patrol sergeants to start taking the hares back down into the mountain.

Bragus approached Morath as the Badger got up to leave. "Sire," he asked timidly, "Uh...about joining the Long Patrol, sah. Do you think that I can really beat my ol' pap and become one of the youngest officers evah?"

Morath smiled at the young hare. "Anything is possible," he said, "However, that's not going to happen if you don't get top marks and do as you are told. Following orders to the letter and doing extra on top of all of that is tough; my own father continuously pushed me to the limits when I was a lad like yourself, and now look what that made me. In the meantime, enjoy your young life while it lasts, because it's not going to get a chance…to—"

Bragus looked up curiously at the Badger Lord once he stopped talking. "Mi'lord?" he asked, "What's wrong?"

Morath put a hand up on his head. He looked like he was in great pain. The badger felt as if a very cloudy mist had encircled over his eyes; like the Bloodwrath, but much less red. The mist seemed to envelop his whole senses, and soon he found himself very disoriented and about to go unconscious. Pushing Bragus aside so he wouldn't land on top of him, Morath felt his knees buckle and his whole body fall to the ground with a thud, his entire mind going black.

Bragus was a very bright lad, and he knew very well what to do when anyone, Badger Lords especially, were to fall over and lose consciousness.

"Help!" he shouted, "Lord Morath is in trouble! Help! Quick, get a physician over here! Help!!"

"What up, lad?" a sergeant quickly came up to Bragus, "What's the bally matta—Good grief! Jerome! Get six Hares over here and make it snappy! Bring the bally doctor here too, or I'll have your whiskers for mah bowstring!"

With a quick, "Yes, sah!" one of the Hares quickly ran down the stairs to get some help. The sergeant turned his attention back to Bragus.

"What happened, lad? How'd he get hurt like this?"

"I don't know," Bragus replied, "One minute he was talkin', and the next he started actin' dizzy and then keeled over. Maybe it was somethin' he ate, wot?"

The sergeant knelt down and examined Morath, lifting his head and opening one of his big eyes to get a good look. "Nah, m'boy," the sergeant said, "He's out cold, but it wasn't something he ate. His vision's a bit cloudy. I've got a hunch what it could be, but until we get the doc up here I can't be sure. In the meantime, young Bragus, go get yer' pap and tell him what's goin' on. Quick's the word, and sharp's the action, wot, wot!"

"Yes, sah!" Bragus saluted. Without another word, he dashed like a speeding arrow down the steps, bolting through the corridors and flying past the other young hares being led to their dormitories. All around him, people were whispering and asking themselves what in the name of fur and freedom was going on. He couldn't help but ask himself the very same question.

* * *

Guldar Deadeyes sat upon his throne, smiling proudly as he examined the captives at his feet. Three so-called 'freebeasts' were bound by their paws and kneeling on his bearskin rug. Two of them looked as terrified as ever; two squirrels, as a matter of fact. Guldar knew right away that the manner that they were dressed suggested that they were both of royal, or at least rich, lineage; perhaps a father and daughter or niece travelling together. The third individual he knew very well, though he hadn't seen him since the war had ended so many years ago.

"Grimfeather," Guldar growled, "Report; how many others managed to survive?"

"These t'ree along with a' least two dozen others, sir," the weasel said, "We've got 'dem all tied up, just like ye ordered."

"Get the others below," he ordered, "Have the boatswains prepare them for slavery. It's high time we had extra oar slaves on board."

"Aye, cap'n," Grimfeather saluted. He quickly scurried out of the throne room and headed out onto the deck, where several bounty hunters were currently making sport on a couple of the prisoners. The poor beasts were being used as targets for whips. Though the hunters didn't attack to kill; Guldar would have their heads if they dared to kill any potential slaves; they did give the helpless sailors hell. The screams and shouts of anguish made by the two dormice being picked on at that current moment caused the two squirrels to tremble even more. The squirrelmaid actually started weeping.

_That's quite a pretty maid, if I do say so myself_, Guldar thought.

The mouse sat unmoving, gazing up at Guldar with pure hatred in his eyes. The Pine Marten snapped his fingers once, causing the two squirrels to immediately stop trembling. Guldar was rather disappointed that he didn't get a reaction out of the mouse, though he knew that the mouse would soon find him a true creature to fear.

"So," Guldar said, "Captain Floret…or should I say 'former Captain Floret?' Your ship had once caused me quite a bit of trouble back when I was a part of the Dark Horde. You almost cost me the fur on my back when my superior discovered that you had stolen all of our cargo and our latest shipment of oar slaves. Personally, I'm glad that I found you now that the war is long over…it means that I'd be the one to decide your fate, not my so-called 'masters.'"

"Whatever fate you decide of me, Pine Marten, get it over with," Floret growled, "I'd rather not get into unnecessary chit-chat."

Guldar laughed. "You can tell if someone's a good mouse if he sticks to the point," Guldar said, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to deny you the torture I have planned for now…you see, you are my guests on this ship. You and I know each other, but I've not had the priviledge of being introduced to your two…friends."

At these words, the squirrels began trembling again. Floret glanced fearfully at them for a moment before returning his gaze back up at Guldar, his face set in a seemingly emotionless expression.

"They are…passengers of mine," Floret said, "They have nothing to do with you. They were heading over to Port Timberfurrow for merchant business. They aren't even rich folk; down on their luck, I heard. I only took them in out of the goodness of my heart."

"I'm sure you did," Guldar sneered. He gazed at the male Squirrel, who was crouched low but had moved over to protect the Squirrelmaid from the vicious pirate king. Guldar lowered a claw and held it dangerously below the Squirrel's chin, causing the beast to swallow hard and follow the claw with his head as best as he could while being tied.

"State your name, Squirrel…if you want to live to see your child grow old," the Pine Marten growled.

"I-I-I am S-S-S-S-Sir Gustof Oakkin. This is my daughter, Selene. I am a merchant, as the captain rightfully says. If it would please you, sire, I have cargo aboard the _Turquoise_ that I am sure you would greatly appreciate. I am willing to grant all of it to you freely if you just spare the lives of myself, and my daughter."

Guldar smiled widely. He heard this name before. If he remembered correctly back during his time in the Dark Horde, the Oakkins were once a proud, noble family of Squirrels that lived in the lands conquered by his former masters. Back then, the Oakkins lost their estates and kingdoms to the Dark Horde, and those who survived were registered as beasts to keep an eye on when patrolling the Horde's lands. Though he had been out of touch with the registry for a while now, he knew that there had to be someone out there that would find their family valuable…especially if they had some sort of family heirlooms stashed somewhere.

"I accept your offer," Guldar announced, his smile still intact.

Everyone's eyes widened; most notably the other crew members. The few that were privileged enough to be in the throne room with the great Guldar were rather shocked that their captain or king would show mercy to weaklings. The only one who wasn't shocked was Shadran, who simply closed his eyes as he leaned in the corner and allowed himself a very rare smile off of the corner of his mouth.

"Greenfang, Rashnak," Guldar barked, "Announce to the crew to start loading his lordship's valuables onto the ship. Anything of extremely high value goes straight to me. The rest can be divided accordingly. Dismissed."

The two bowed low to the King of Bounty Hunters before they left the throne room. Gustof was on his hands and knees, his heart overjoyed from the sudden turn of luck. Floret just sighed. He had already interpreted the true meaning of Guldar's words, and he knew that the Squirrel wasn't going to like what would happen next.

"Oh, thank you for sparing us, my lord," Gustof said, "I promise you that we will pay you back."

Guldar let another chuckle, before promptly kicking Gustof full in the face. The Squirrel was thrown backwards over his daughter's head before he landed hard on his head on the Bear-skin rug with a loud thud, much to the delight of the remaining vermin officers. He groaned as he tried to get himself back up in a kneeling position, so that he could better gaze at the mad warlord's face.

"Fool," Guldar hissed, "I said you could live…I didn't say for how long or whether or not you were even going to be treated as a guest, like you would if you were still a freebeast. As of now, you, along with Captain Floret, are to be placed in the brig where you will spend the rest of your days…or until I can harvest a suitable ransom for your heads. I'm sure there's at least someone out there in the world who would miss you if you didn't turn up where you both belonged…"

He soon turned his eyes to the quiet Squirrelmaid on the floor, who was still shivering and had noticeably turned even more frightened at the sight of those horrid, deadly eyes. Guldar eyed her up and down. The more he gazed at her, the more he was certain that his decision was perfect…he, after all, needed fresher meat amongst his current flock of lovelies.

"As for your daughter," Guldar said with a smile, "I'll make sure she gets much better treatment. Henceforth, she shall be one of my private slave girls; to forever obey her master's beck and call. Sure, she'll never see her father or loved ones again, but is it not better to be under the Devil's care than in his path, mate?"

The monstrous Pine Marten laughed. Selena promptly fainted, landing with a thud on the rug. Gustof could only gaze slack-jawed in horror. Floret just shook his head in resignation, knowing full well that everything was just going to keep going downhill from that point on.

* * *

Gorril waited patiently by the door to the captain's cabin. He had already seen Greenfang and Rashnak file out and begin ordering the crew to start moving the goods from the newly-captured ship. He was waiting specifically for Shadran, who he knew very well was inside and doubtlessly receiving orders from his majesty.

Finally, the other officers and Bounty Hunters began filing out, ordering crew members about. Gorril knowingly kept well out of sight, seeing as he could be unluckily ordered about by one of the other officers and lose his chance at catching a few words with Shadran.

After what seemed like forever, Shadran came out. The weasel grunted as he caught sight of the bright sunlight outside, and quickly pulled up his shadowy hood over his eyes. Catching Gorril out of the corner of his eye, he slyly made a quick movement with his hand and slunk away, revealing a dagger on the ground where his cloak had been.

Gorril waited until Shadran had dipped downstairs to his private cabin before grabbing the dagger. After carefully dodging the eyes of the other officers, he began to make his way down towards Shadran's cabin…and ran right into Greenfang.

"Oi!" Greenfang growled, "Wot'cha doin' 'ere, boy?! Ye should be out gettin' the loot like the others!"

"Shadran asked me to fetch his dagger, mate," Gorril said as convincingly as he could, "He dropped it on his way out and asked me to fetch it for him. Here; see for yerself."

Gorril showed the shadowy dagger that the Weasel dropped. Greenfang took it out of his hands and examined the weapon closely. Gorril would have loved to have shived him with the weapon right then and there, but he knew that the time was not ripe for plundering yet. He paid very close attention to the Rat officer as he examined the blade in his hands.

Finally, Greenfang gave the weapon back to Gorril, point first, as if reminding him of how treacherous he really was. Gorril accepted the weapon carefully before slipping it back in his pocket so he couldn't accidentally cut himself…or be tempted in killing his adversary.

"Be careful with things that don't belong to ye, boy," Greenfang said in a voice barely above a whisper, "It could have a habit of stranglin' ye to death."

Greenfang made his way out onto the deck and started barking orders to the others. Gorril quickly slipped into the darkness of the lower decks, making his way quickly to the back of the ship and keeping to the shadows as he did.

Shadran's cabin door was open. Gorril had to knock once and the Weasel's head poked out to greet him. Silently, Shadran beckoned Gorril inside. The Rat obeyed, slipping into the cabin and closing the door behind him. He pulled out Shadran's dagger and handed it to the deadly assassin.

"You're late," Shadran remarked, "Run into Greenfang?"

"The dagger kept me from havin' to do much of that fool's dirty work," Gorril said.

"I expected that it would," the Weasel said, "Now…what's this all about?"

"When do I perform the blood ritual?" Gorril asked eagerly, "I am more than eager to kill off that son of a pig. He stole what was rightfully mine…and vengeance shall soon be had."

"Patience, son of Gorrahg," Shadran said silently, "Greenfang's demise will be soon, and most certainly by your hand, but he will not come quietly. Few know that your father pulled me out of that great shark that tried to kill our king so long ago, and fewer still know that he healed me and ensured my survival. Only you know of the blood pact I made in your father's name, which is why I'm here, talking to you at this very moment. Once you begin this ritual, there is no stopping it, so make sure you accomplish the deed as best as you can."

Gorril nodded his head. "Greenfang's head will be restin' calmly on the end of my sword when this is all over…this I swear by my father's blood, and by the tattoo on me face."

Shadran nodded in agreement. Neither of them liked Greenfang, though both of them hated him for different purposes than the other. Gorril hated the Rat officer because of what he did to his father and of the inheritance he denied him, but Shadran…his hatred was much more formal. He and Guldar both agreed that Greenfang was too ambitious for his own good; that his desire for power could likely lead to mutiny within the ranks if he got enough loyal followers. Shadran had already discussed an appropriate plan for getting rid of this particular loose end…and Gorril was the perfect tool for the job.

"Alright then, boy," Shadran said calmly, twirling his dagger by the point of his finger, "Here's what you're going to do. Guldar has decided to give the freebeast ship to Greenfang; he's wanting his own personal armada, and he sees the rat as a likely candidate for the job of a secondary captain. Greenfang is to select a crew tonight that he can properly use to ensure that his new ship will run in top shape…and he'll likely pick only his most loyal followers. Your instructions are simple; get to Greenfang…get on his good side, somehow, and get him to pick you as one of his crew. Once you manage to get on board, I'll give you more instructions later. Am I clear?"

Gorril gave the Weasel a hefty salute. "Aye, aye, sir."

Shadran nodded. "Good. You are dismissed…the sooner you try to get on his good side, the better. By the way…he really enjoys the elderberry wine in the captain's cabin. Get's drunk easily on the stuff. I took the liberty of leaving a barrel out for you…just tell the slaves that Shadran's tippin' tonight."

Gorril nodded, completely understanding the Weasel's instructions. Without another word, the Rat quickly left the cabin, keeping to the shadows as best as he could as he made his way back up to the deck, his mind thoroughly set upon revenge. Shadran allowed himself a very calm and very deadly smile before closing the door to his cabin and sharpening the dagger in his hand.

**Kerian**: It's been a little while since I updated, hasn't it? Alright, so we now know a little bit more about Shadran and Gorril, and we als oknow about Gorril's plans for dealing with Greenfang...at least for the moment. In the meantime, Morath gets knocked out, and Adrian has girl problems...all in all, not a bad chapter I should say.

Something that I'm planning on doing is getting some kind of cover-art/concept art set up for The Fallen Star. Already I'm setting up a picture for Morath the Moors. It isn't perfect, but it's better than nothing. I'm probably going to have him attempting to defend himself against Deadeyes or another vermin lord. It should look pretty cool, and since I have a Deviantart account you guys will be able to see it later!

I'm probably going to be updating this a lot more often since I've got Redwall on the brain. I can't wait until the Sable Quean comes out. I'm still kind of waiting until I get a chance to buy Doomwyte, seeing as that's the only book in the Redwall series I have yet to read. Once I do get it, I probably will be updating this fic a lot more often. I've got big plans for Adrian, Bragus, Guldar, and all of those other characters I've managed to create since this fic started.

I guess that's probably it for now, other than a quick announcement involving other fics. I'm currently still working on the next chapter to Secrets of the Lost Woods. Until I'm done with that, I'm probably not going to post anything more anytime soon. However, while I'm still kind of in the block on that fanfic I'll be sure to keep updating everything and probably post it all in one big SHABANG! Until then, me out!

-Kerian


	8. Chapter 6

**The Fallen Star**

**A Tale of Redwall**

_{6}_

* * *

The morning sun shone over Redwall like a lovely beacon, causing the red sandstone to glow with a rosy hue of daybreak. As Abbot Brian watched the sunrise, he could not help but marvel at how lovely nature seemed to be this year. His wall top reflections did not go unnoticed; indeed, he was not alone, as Bellringer Grenwick approached him and stood alongside, gazing out at the sunrise.

"Marvelous day, ain't it, Father Abbot?" the Vole asked.

"Indeed it is, Grenwick," Abbot Brian replied, "A wonderful day, and one that heralds the second day that our young Adrian has come of age. To think; he is at least 16 seasons old. Hard to believe, isn't it, how fast he's grown?"

"Aye, Father," Grenwick replied, "As me ol' mother used to say, 'a child born of stars and carefully tended shall grow strong like the ash trees.'"

"Your mother was a sound Vole, then, Grenwick," Brian said, "Oh! Speaking of stars, I almost forgot to thank you for giving that astronomy lesson to the young ones last night. They certainly enjoyed it, didn't they? That invention of yours is quite marvelous, if I do say so myself."

Grenwick nodded, glancing down at the strange, metal tube in his hands. Grenwick had often taken to tinkering in his spare time. Since he lived in the Gatehouse with the Abbey Recorder, Job the Mouse, he had little else to do in between bell-ringings. His invention was a simple object; basically two lenses combined in a long tube to allow one to see things much further away. However, even he knew it wasn't perfect; there was something about the design that didn't sit right.

It was obvious by the look of Grenwick's face that the design wasn't the only thing that sat right within his head.

"Grenwick? What's wrong?"

Grenwick gave a long sigh, staring off into the sunrise as he did. "Father Abbot," he said at last, "You and I both know that I came from the ol' Vole Tribes to the east of 'ere. Before I came to Redwall, I lived a life of superstition as the rest of my kind did; it was guaranteed to happen, given the fact t'at we often were visited by Vixen seers in the past. After I arrived here, I promised to give up such foolish ways, and t'aint once been bothered by it since…'til now, that is."

Abbot Brian was confused. What could his old friend mean? Surely the Vole was not plagued by some foul memory of the past, was he?

"Father Abbot," the Vole said quietly, "I 'ave a confession to make. The reason why I'm fascinated by the stars is 'cause me ol' mother stated t'at there were always signs given by the stars. Though common sense says otherwise, I find t'at me ol' mother was always true. Every time somet'ing of great importance happens, the stars seem to be aligned to show it would occur. Same t'ing if somet'ing bad happens."

The Vole gazed up into the Abbot's eyes as he said his next words. "This new star means bad business. 'Tis a warnin'; a warnin' t'at somet'ing bad is about to happen. I do not know what it could be, but I do no this; Redwall will be at the center of the events to come."

Abbot Brian could tell by the look of Grenwick's eyes that he had not been more serious in all of his life. The Abbot was frightened. If Grenwick's words were true, it would mean that the age of peace that had finally come to Redwall would come to a close, and he was unsure whether or not things would turn out for the better, or for the worse.

"Grenwick," the Abbot said with a sigh, "Understand me very clearly; if you speak the truth, and if this terrible event is about to occur, then I should warn you not to tell anyone. I do not wish to start a panic amongst the others. Mossflower Woods would likely never forgive us if we were wrong. If you are incorrect, and I certainly hope by nature's good grace that you are, then I would like you to at least keep a continuous eye on those stars. I'll be sure to send someone to Salamandastron; to speak to the Badger Lord, Morath. He surely would know what to make of this. In the meantime, we shall speak only to Morwen about this conversation, and to no one else. Am I understood?"

"I had no intention of talkin' to anyone else without your permission, Father Abbot," Grenwick nodded, "Not even ol' Job knows of this, though knowing him he'll probably figure it out sooner or later. I'll keep watchin' that star and let you know what I make of it in a week's time. If there is somet'ing serious afoot, I recommend a counsel meetin'."

"Understood," Abbot Brian nodded, "Now…no more talk of doom and destruction. Friar Jon is likely cooking breakfast right now. I sure do hope he's made oatmeal and apple-bits again."

The two elders departed for the kitchens, going on with life as if the conversation that had occurred between them had never happened. As they did, the sun continued its steady upward climb, heralding the day and awakening the birds, insects, and other animals that dwelled within the depths of Mossflower Woods.

* * *

To the south of Redwall, somewhere deep in Mossflower Woods, the forest was still silent. Even as the dawn broke, there wasn't a sound to be heard; no crickets chirping or birds singing in the morning light. Bird nests were surprisingly empty in the area, and at least several beehives had tremendous, fist-sized holes in them and were missing a considerably large amount of honeycomb within. Newly grown saplings had been torn free of their roots, and old trees were completely devoured of their branches and leaves, stripped down until only the highest branches remained.

There was a source to all of this widespread destruction. Far south of Redwall, east of the great plain that led to the land under the guardian shadow of Salamandastron and the Long Patrol Hares, there was a great cave. This cave wove through many places throughout the depths of Mossflower wood. Once, long ago, it had been the home of a great and mighty oak tree, but the tree had fallen in long ages past; likely destroyed either by wind, weather, flame, or perhaps by fate's cruel hands. Regardless, the great stump that had been left behind was the entrance to a great and ancient tunnel network that spread far and wide throughout the southern edges of Mossflower.

Here, in the dark, dank depths of this cavernous place, dwelt the home of the Sons of Cluny.

No one can truly tell you why they got the name, or how they managed to survive the depths of time. It was believed that they were just a band of vermin that took up the name for themselves when they heard legends of the great one who managed to conquer the great abbey to the north. Others believed that they were rats that always had lived there; descendents of old vermin that once dwelt in Mossflower when it was a haven for their kind, and took up the name based off of the great leader that had brought them all under one banner long ago. However, the leaders of the Sons of Cluny all claim to have direct heritage to the great warlord himself, whether through some old bondage between the warlord and some unlucky mousemaid or honored rat among rats, or through a blood cousin that the rat had not killed or had overlooked in his conquests.

Nevertheless, the Sons of Cluny were perhaps the greatest horde of foebeasts ever to lurk within Mossflower woods since the old days. Though most of them were clans of rats, ferrets, stoats and weasels that dwelt in and out of the many dens within the tunnels, all proclaimed their loyalty to the Greatrats; the true sons of Cluny. If one ever asked how they could be considered a "son" of the great scourge, all one had to do was look at their tails.

Every last one of the Greatrats; male or female, runt or bully, lowly grunt to the great Scourgemaster himself; all had very long, very flexible tails. Indeed, so prehensile were their tails that they often used them to hang off of trees like the strange beasts called monkeys that lived far to the south in the jungles. These mighty beasts were the leaders of the Sons of Cluny, often leading whole hordes of vermin upon great campaigns across the lands of Mossflower.

Most of their dark wanderings took place in the west near the shoreline, where they often raided villages, caravans, or the occasional patrol of Hares coming from the mountain. However, not once did they ever venture north, towards the one place depicted foremost in their prophesized final victory in Mossflower; Redwall. They felt as if they weren't ready; as if a great shadow in the form of a deadly sword had loomed over them in any attempts at getting near.

Now, however, their time was ripe.

Stealthy as foxes, a recent raiding party quickly returned to the dark depths of the cave, carrying their spoils inside of bags on their backs. Most of the stuff was just food and easy loot; bird eggs, a stash of honeycomb dripping with golden honey and squirming bee maggots, the occasional stash of freshly hauled catches of fish and freshwater shrimp, and an assortment of any and all of the freshest produce of the land that they could find.

Of course, there was a real big catch for them all on that day; a great big seabird, towed down and killed by the greatest of the rat warriors. Though a couple of the rats fell to the beast, the mighty Gull was no match for the Greatrat prince that had slain it. The mighty white, black-striped bird lay upon a large stretcher carried by at least eight of the vermin scum in the party, a spear having been driven up the bird's beak and into its throat. A mighty rat walked alongside the stretcher, his tail flexing and curling around loose feathers and the nearby limb of the dead bird.

The moving feast came to a halt when drums suddenly gonged out from within the deep. The whole procession stopped and bent down upon one knee, the rats dropping their produce onto the ground and bowing low. Some of the food stuffs that were still alive began to scurry or flop about in an attempt to escape, but their fate had been sealed the moment they went inside of the cavern, and were as good as dead.

The Greatrat stood forward and took a mighty bow, flexing his powerful tail before letting it droop in submission as he did. It was a common gesture for Greatrats when speaking to a vermin of higher authority, and for the Greatrats there was only one who could claim such a title.

"Oh great Bladetail," the mighty vermin said, "Highlord of all Greatrats, da' mightay Cluny reborn. See now, wha' great feasts Ah and mah huntin' partay's brought for ye. A mightay seabird, who 'ad da' stupiditay to hunt alon' yer great sea shores. Ah slain him, an' brought his carcass to ye in yer name, as a feast to yer honor, father."

All were right to respect and fear the dreaded name…Bladetail. The highest of all Greatrats, Bladetail was the biggest, toughest, and meanest of his kind. He was likened indeed to the great Cluny himself, thus granting him the title of Cluny Reborn. Bladetail was considered by all to be the Sons of Cluny's greatest leader in many a season, compared to the great Cluny himself for his many great war campaigns with other vermin. Many of the vermin who dwelled within his halls were former enemies…most of them dead. Bladetail often kept the heads of his greatest enemies as trophies, and his mighty throne was covered in skulls of some of the greatest vermin warlords of that time; even a few mice. Indeed, the true reason for peace in Mossflower was not because of Vermin being driven off, but a lack of vermin altogether, for the Sons of Cluny were all that were left.

Now, Bladetail is a rather simple name for a warlord. One would assume that the great one would have taken up a more frightening name, such as Skullthrone, or Whiplash. Indeed, even the name Nazg had more mystery than Bladetail, for it was a name not heard since the leader took up his title. However, the true reason for his name actually lay in his tail itself.

Like the spade of the devil's own whip-like attachment, the mighty tail of Cluny Reborn had a poisoned blade permanently attached to the end. Like the poisoned barb of the great Cluny himself; indeed, it was claimed to have been the very same barb that struck down the foolish mouse leader of Redwall who thought that he could use peace to bring down the tyrant; Bladetail's mighty attachment was no less deadly. Those who touched the blade would die a slow, antagonizing death as the poison worked its way deep within the veins of his foes. Indeed, many of the great Bladetail's enemies died from a suicide of their own making, rather facing a quick death than the serpent's poison of the Scourge; the name given to the warlord's tail. Yes, Bladetail was a very frightening villain…and fear demanded respect.

"Good work, Grinwuld, my son," the mighty warlord spoke, "Ye've done well. Take the carcass an' give it to the slaves. Tell 'em to cook it nice and slow…or I'll see to it that they are cooked slower!"

"Aye, father," Grinwuld curled his own great tail around his body and let it slip over his heart; a noble salute of the Greatrats to their officers and each other, "Yer' will shall be done."

As Grinwuld demanded the hordebeasts to take the food into the further depths of the cave, the great Cluny Reborn, Bladetail, raised his arms into the air to get the attention of all inside of his tunnels and caverns.

"The Sons of Cluny shall feast tonight!" he shouted in a great, bellowing voice, "Tonight, I shall make the final decision that will change all of our fates forever! It shall be a day of great rejoicing, an' all shall speak of it in the years to come. T'ough it will be spoken no more within the halls of the great caverns of Cluny's Hell, mateys."

All eyes watched as the great master of the deep raised his Scourge, letting his mighty tail blade reflect in the torchlight. The tail barb glinted madly in the fire's glaze, though it did not glint as madly as the fiery rage, ambition, and madness of the great one's own eyes.

"It shall be spoken from within the great sandstone walls that are Redwall Abbey, our truest enemies! We shall grind them into the dust, and they shall all know the true meaning of fear when they look out their doors in two days time and find us banging on their doorstep…We, the Sons of Cluny!!!"

His tail blade came crashing down upon the rock that he stood upon. The Scourge's bladetip left a deep crack in the stone from where it struck, showing off the truest and greatest terror that was the king of the ancient horde. All rats, weasels, stoats, and ferrets alike roared their war cries to their chief's words, though no war cries were as powerful as the one that echoed throughout every last tunnel in the depths.

"Cluny!! Cluny!! CLUNY REBORN!!!"

* * *

As the feast within the depths of the caverns that were Cluny's Hell continued, none had noticed the great warlord slipping into the gap behind his throne. He ascended from his throne room until he made his way higher up into the caverns, to a spot that few neither knew about nor ever dreamt existed. Far from the main caverns, in the depths of an ancient bedrock cave forged by a running stream which still flowed in the depths, was the den of the One of Bones.

Now, the One of Bones was a very frightening creature. Few knew what he was in reality; even Bladetail had trouble guessing what he could be. Whatever beast lay beneath the ancient, ragged, mangy fur and bare skin was beyond solid recognition, and few still could identify its origins with the ancient bones covering his body.

The One of Bones was not called that without good cause. His entire body was covered in bone. From the tip of his tail to the top of his muzzle, the beastly creature was covered in an assortment of the disembodied bones of many creatures that existed over time. Those who would first look at him would think that he was some rotting corpse come back to life, and indeed he may as well be. However, Bladetail could see beyond the rib cages, jutted bony leg-plates, and the half of a rat's skull on the creature's head to know the beast's uses…as a seer.

"Tell me, One of Bones," the warlord spoke, "What do your ancient eyes see?"

The strange creature did not move at first. The warlord could never tell whether the creature was dead or not, because it always reeked of the stench of death. However, a pale, bare limb that was covered by the bones of an old lizard raised a claw and pointed at a satchel on the chief's belt.

"An offering of flesh," the creature hissed, "and an offering of bone…such is the demand of the one who is living and dead."

The warlord reached his powerful tail over to his belt and nicked off the satchel. The small bag hung upon the blade tip for a moment before the tail rose up his scourge and opened the bag, releasing its contents into an open hand. The rat fingered at the bits of half-raw bird's meat, stripped clean from the heart and muscles of the seabird of the feast, and tossed it to the monster.

The One of Bones caught it in midair. Giving it a sniff, it greedily began to lap up the meat from beneath its skull mask. As it feasted upon its meager meal, Bladetail waited patiently for the creature to finish its appetizer of bird's meat. The One of Bones slurped the flesh through a seemingly toothless mouth, but finished the meal quickly.

"And…an offering of bones as well…"

Bladetail took out an assortment of the many bones that were picked off secretly by his slaves from the fruits of their repast. A couple of sharp, pointed fish ribs, the lower jaw of the seabird's beak, and the scattered remains of a grave-robbed hand were all that could be provided, but they were more than enough. The One of Bones took them greedily, feeling a finger through each of them before attaching the most useful to parts of his ever-growing armory of dead exoskeletal clothing before placing the rest on the floor in front of him.

"What does the Tyrant Reborn wish to know?" the One of Bones asked.

Bladetail brought a foot up onto a rock and leaned on his leg, letting his tail flex and maneuver about as if fidgeting. "Are yer visions clouded of late?" he asked, "Does the demon mouse fix his gaze on ye?"

The One of Bones shook his head. "One who is dead cannot bother another who bonds with the dead," the seer spoke, "And those of the past cannot delve into the minds of the future. My visions see all…though the Redstone house seems to avoid my gaze for the time being."

"Two days," the chief said, "Do ye think that's enough time?"

"More than enough," the beast said, "Indeed, the spirits of Hellgates tell me that it is not soon enough. Many things come over the horizon…and though the sun comes from the east, the shadow arrives in the west."

Bladetail sometimes could never make hide nor hair of the One of Bones, but listened nonetheless. He was good at solving puzzles. He could figure it out later if he had to. "What else?"

The One of Bones began to chant in some ancient language as he grasped at tiny bones that encircled about in his lair. Gathering them and his most recent in his horde, he shook them into his claws before tossing them upon the ground. Letting his sickly green claws maneuver each of the bones, he examined the tiny pieces of the dead and began to whisper at them, as if trying to converse with them.

At long last, the One of Bones looked up. Though the chief could never see his eyes, Bladetail could always tell when the One of Bones had his gaze upon him, and right now his gaze was mesmerized and stricken with importance…like the gaze of someone who knows valuable information.

"A great, moving forest," the seer muttered, "riding upon clouds of black, moves from the west. A dark one rides upon it…one whose horde is greater than many…nay. This cannot be…"

"What?! What is it?" the Greatrat growled impatiently, "Speak, seer!"

"The horde that rests upon this vessel is greater than even that of Cluny," the One of Bones mutters, "Stealers of the rich. Slayers of kings and nobles. A crew of hunters whose very lives are bound by law and by the hunt. They come swiftly west, though they do not know of these shores."

_Good_, Bladetail thought in relief. _At least that leaves out competition. _"What else?"

"Your dreams and ambitions soon become one," the seer said, "Indeed, in two days time, Redwall will know and fear your name, though they shall fight dearly. In peaceful times, the Redwallers are; letting their grip on the realities of war slip. They will be easy targets…should allies not arrive."

"Allies?" That did not sound good. Redwall had legendary ties with many of the free woodlanders in Mossflower. The Guosim Shrews of the east, the Salamandastron Hares to the west, and the mighty Squirrel Troupes of the north. All three of these allies alone were more than suitable for combat, and even if the smallest of them were to join the Redwallers, it would mean certain defeat or a long siege for the Sons of Cluny; a siege that they could not afford. Indeed, Bladetail was more frightened of the allies of Redwall than the abbey itself.

"Your attack must be swift," the One of Bones whispered as he gazed over his collection, "If the attack extends to a siege, all hope is lost. You must rely upon speed and strength of arms. No mercy whatsoever and no attempts to retreat or fall back to the caverns, unless you find yourself in battle still by the third day and not within the Abbey walls."

The One of Bones waved a hand over to his right, examining the bones there.

"A murderous beast follows the travelling forest," he said, "Blood mixes between these two. The beast has no intention on stopping, even if death takes him. The dark one aboard will have much upon his hands if he chooses to attack the great stone on the western shores."

Salamandastron. Bladetail knew it well. He had seen it from afar, though never bothered to attack it. It was a taboo place. Any searat who dared to get within ten leagues of it were chased down by Badger Lords or shot down by the hares of the Long Patrol. Dark was that mountain, said to contain ancient treasures within. There was no getting out once you were inside.

The One of Bones continued gazing into his collection, but suddenly stopped. Letting his hands sink, he gazed deeply into the bones, as if searching for something. With only the sound of the lapping streamwater to break the silence, the two of them stood absolutely still and silent for many moments.

Finally, Bladetail broke the silence. "What is it?! What do ye see?!?"

The One of Bones whispered slightly, as if trying to confirm his thoughts. As he gazed back up, the eye sockets on his mask seemed to grow darker.

"Nothing," he said, "I see nothing. This has never happened before. Within seven revolutions in the future, I see a bright light, and then…only darkness. 'Tis…'tis a bad omen, my lord."

Bladetail pondered upon this information. He technically had gotten what he came for; he knew that within two days time, they would do battle with Redwall, and that if they did not succeed in breaching the gate in another three days after, they would fail. However, it was intriguing that the One of Bones could not see further than a week into the future. Did it spell his downfall? Did it mean that the old seer was finally cracking? Perhaps the light shattering in the darkness meant that the light that was hope, the light that was Redwall, would finally crush beneath his heel.

"I take my leave," the chief said, "I will reflect upon this message. My servants will bring more food for ye later."

The One of Bones watched him go before leaving his collection and heading deeper into the cavern. As he did, his foot cuffed a rock with his tail, which was sent splashing into the waters of the stream nearby. Water splashed up onto the floor, covering the whole area where the seer had stood earlier.

It had washed the bones almost completely away…

* * *

A rat who had gotten just a little bit too drunk had just left the cave entrance to Cluny's Hell, wandering about through the forest as he made his way away from his friends. He had gotten into a little bit of an argument and was fuming in a drunken rage to the point that he could make out neither hide nor tail of where he was in the world. He didn't care either. Right now, all he wanted was some peace and quiet to get rid of his headache.

After he had gotten quite a distance away, he fell against a tree with an almighty plop. Head reeling about dizzily, the rat completely forgot about the dangers that lay within Mossflower's dark boughs, and slept openly in the depths. His snores echoed long through the forest, and every woodland creature inside that wanted some peace and quiet during that early morning moved away as far from the infernal snoring as they could.

Only one creature remained. In the boughs of an old sycamore, watching the rat, a dark furred beast stood still and silent. Tossing a few nuts near the rat to make sure he was fast asleep, the creature watched patiently. Finally, when all was well enough, he scurried down the tree trunk and kept to the shadows, slowly making his way to the rat until he was but a paw's length away.

The rat began to stir, his headache calling to attention. As he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was what looked like the black silhouette of a squirrel, wielding a large, oaken staff in his hands. Before the rat could even move, the staff came down, and he was out cold.

**Kerian**: It's been a while since I updated this, eh? I hope everyone's liked it. I'm probably going to work on this a lot for a while. I'll explain why in a minute, but for now; on with reflection of our story...

I've been thinking on making the Sons of Cluny for a while now. Descendants of Cluny's Horde, or what was left of them anyway, the Sons of Cluny had lived in Mossflower for a while before they were united under one banner. Basically, they didn't have a leader until the Greatrats, the self-proclaimed descendants of the Scourge himself, showed up. Now they scour all of Mossflower, bringing wrath and destruction in their wake, and they are the true reasons why Mossflower's been all quiet recently. Of course, every horde needs a powerful leader, and every powerful leader of wrath needs a power behind the throne, so to speak. So is the One of Bones. He's a pretty new idea, though he's pretty cool nonetheless. Imagine being so old that nobody can recognize your species anymore, and going so gothic that you literally like wearing dead stuff all over you. That's pretty much the One of Bones is.

Now, the real recent reason for my current return to Redwall stuff is because I recently got the second-most recent Redwall book, Doomwyte, a little while ago. I finished it last night, as a matter of fact. Brian Jacques really outdoes himself with the new books. I can't wait until I get a chance to order the Sable Quean. Anyway, since my last inspiration to doing this was caused by Eulalia, hopefully Doomwyte will help me keep to this story. To tell you the truth, I need a little break from the Zelda line. Having completed a short story in Legend of Zelda, plus updating a chapter on my novelization, and a number of other reasons has kept my focus on a minimum. Any break is a turn in the right direction for me, so I might be able to find refuge in Redwall for a while...at least, after I'm done updating everything first. lol

So, I wonder what's going to happen to Redwall now? Will Grenwick's stargazing proove helpful? Who was the beast that struck down the drunk rat? And what of the One of Bones' vision? Find out in the next installment of The Fallen Star: A Tale of Redwall!

-Kerian


	9. Chapter 7

**The Fallen Star**

**A Tale of Redwall**

_{7}_

* * *

The choppy waves of the great ocean pounded against the hull of the two ships. Though the mighty girth of the _Hellgates_ prevented the waves from affecting those inside, it was a much different story for those inside of the ship formerly known as the _Turquoise_. The ship was being towed along by a rope behind the stern of the _Hellgates_, and was to remain so until a proper captain would be assigned from the ship. Until then, the survivors of the battle were confined to the lower deck of the ship, where they were chained up against a series of benches and kept close watch on by about a score of vermin on board. Many of the officers were arguing what to call their new ship, though they may as well have called it _Misery_, for that was what the prisoners felt like.

Jeff the Vole was one of the lucky ones to have survived. His injured arm was in a makeshift sling, though that was all that it was in. Truth be told, he considered himself to be even luckier than ever now; normally, prisoners that were too wounded become oarslaves would be tossed overboard, considered useless to have aboard. He guessed that the boat would be a bit short on slaves if he was kept alive, though he was still not too happy about it. Gazing left and right, he took note of the other survivors.

There were only a few of them still alive. Jeff had been chained with old Bruno, the otter in charge of the helm before the ship was taken. In front of them both was the hare, Gregory, who was sitting next to one of the squirrel slaves from aboard the _Hellgates_ that was brought along as reserves.

"Well, this is a sorry mess we got ourselves into, mates," Jeff said sadly, "I should'a never left 'ome. Me ol' mom told me ta stay with the little ones, but no…No, I didn't listen."

"Ah, don't fret about it, mate," Gregory said, "We'll get out of this bally thing in notime, wot? I'm sure some ol' rip's got to come lookin' for ol' whatsisname Gustof, and we'll get rescued, right?"

The squirrel next to them gave a slight chuckle of sad amusement. Jeff growled at the slave as he gazed coldly at the young wretch; barely old enough to be considered an adult.

"What're you laughin' at, squirrel?" the vole asked.

The squirrel kept up his laughter for a little bit before wiping his teary eyes and replying to the vole. "You're so blind," he said sadly, "No ship, free or otherwise, can defeat the _Hellgates_. It's big enough to plow through whole armadas and leaving nothing but splinters and old cloth in its wake. I know…I've seen it happen. You and your friends are doomed to a life like mine, and your stupid noble's probably going to be tortured to death…or held for ransom. Either way…we're all doomed."

Gregory gazed over at the young lad and laid a paw on his shoulder. "That's where you're wrong, lad. Evil ones always get their cummupance, wot? These vermin types are no different. They are all deadbeasts the moment they are born, for they are born in a world where good triumphs over evil, and those of doom soon are tortured forevermore under the might that is good. You'll see…we'll get out of this yet."

Jeff was about to agree when he saw Bruno turn rigid. The otter had not once kept his gaze outside of the porthole since they were chained up. Jeff shook the otter's shoulder in an attempt to get his attention.

"Oi! Bruno, what's gotten into ye? What're you lookin' at?"

Bruno turned to face his comrades, his eyes looking rather grim. "Don't look now, mates," he said, "But I don't think that we may get our chance to leave. I've been watchin' where we've been headin' the moment we got caught. We be headin' east, into calmer waters. We've just passed into Humboldt territory…t'ere's no 'scaping it now. I don't think even the _Hellgates_ can face those blighters!"

* * *

Selena awoke, finding herself in chains and covered in what could only be the finest silk robe she had ever felt. Of course, that was one of the few pieces of clothing on her. Save for the undergarments that protected her modesty, she was almost completely naked. Getting up, she rubbed her head in an attempt to clear it, and looked around.

She was inside of an extravagant room. The familiar rocking indicated that they were still on a ship, but the waters must have been calm, for she could barely feel any movement at all. The room she was in had trophies, beautiful golden trinkets, and the occasional tapestry or two. On the floor at her feet, right next to a very big bed and a throne made of fine cyprus and other beautiful woods, was a rug made out of the hide of a very, very, very large beast.

Selena felt that she wasn't alone. Turning around, she saw a long line of girls that were similarly dressed as she was; all in chains, and lined up against the wall. They were all staring rather darkly at her; some with forlorn expressions, others with, surprisingly, pure hatred and malice. As she looked, she didn't notice the claw extending and poking at her chin until she began to feel her gaze being manipulated away.

"So," said a sultry voice, "This is the new arrival? Hmm…not much to look at, is she? Dearest Guldar must be running low on taste."

Selena was struck by awe as a dark-blue creature that looked like a dangerously beautiful weasel stood before her. The creature was like a glistening pool of beauty, her features covered in every mask of what could only be described as visually perfect, wondrously pretty, and dazzlingly pleasing to the eye. However, though she looked beautiful, the creature did by no means mask the cruelty in her eyes, which shone like fire in glistening green orbs.

Selena felt the claw lift her up into a standing position. The squirrelmaid did her best not to show her discomfort as the sharp object threatened to poke a hole in her chin. The weasel, or whatever it was, seemed to be disappointed at the fact that she wasn't getting more pain out of Selena, and proceeded to extend her other claws as well.

"Listen well, child," the creature hissed, "I am on top here. No one has more influence over his highness than I, and it took me a long time to get the part. Let it be known that it is not the Pine Marten that you should fear, but myself instead…for if I ever catch you trying to woo Guldar, you will face a punishment far worse than death. Am I clear?"

Selena couldn't move or say anything due to the four claws poking in her chin. Instead, she let out a loud swallow, indicating her fear and her understanding of the situation. The creature smiled in satisfaction and let Selena droop down in a less than graceful fashion, before turning around and flicking her aside with her powerful tail. The squirrelmaid landed flat on her back; tears starting to well up in her eyes as she got herself back up in a kneeling position.

The deadly creature walked back over to a room nearby. As she closed the door behind her, all of the slave girls breathed a sigh of relief. Quietly, they began to shift among themselves and move together into groups based upon how far their chains could move. Selena was soon by herself, and so quietly she sat down and curled her arms around her knees, crying silently in despair.

_How did I get myself into this?_ She asked herself. _I should have never left home._

* * *

The _Hellgates_ continued its mad rush forward into the calmer waters of the Great Sea. The crew beasts of the mighty vessel rushed frantically to make sure that the mighty sails of the ship caught every scrap of suitable wind. The Hunters busied themselves as well; checking the stockpile of weapons, sharpening swords, loading quivers, and doing whatever else was needed to ensure that they were all in fighting shape. The helms-rat, a spiny creature from the far south, kept a steady course as the mighty ship soared through the open water.

Up high above, a stoat sitting in the crow's nest kept close watch on the waves in case if there were any obstacles or danger. Something didn't sit right in his guts. Everything was too quiet out in the open sea. There weren't even seagulls fishing in the water; they were busy soaring higher and higher, as if to try and get away from the surface.

Greenfang stood oblivious to all of this. He was too busy scheming. Standing at the prow of the vessel, he gazed across the open waters with the eyes of an eager hawk looking out for worthy prey. He could feel his blood racing with excitement; his every sense increased tenfold as he felt the wind brush against his fur, and the sea spray send its strong scent up his nose.

Soon, all of this would be his. Everything on the known map of the great sea, from the far north where ice and cold dug deep into the bone to the far south where the heat was said to melt swords and roast the unwary and unprepared alive. Every island dotting the surface, every port along the known coastlines, and every vessel upon the open sea would be his…even the _Hellgates_. Nothing, not even the great Guldar Deadeyes himself, would stand in his way.

It had taken him a long time to get up this far into the ranks. It had been simple enough; most have to start somewhere in the way of military ranks in order to get up to the top. Many of the bounty hunters and crewmembers among the ranks of the Hellgates were all veterans of the Dark Horde; that massive army that existed not long ago that almost conquered the entire Great Continent. Others were recent additions; Bounty Hunters that learned of the great Hellgates that joined up either as freelancers or as permanent additions.

Greenfang hated to admit it, but he was one of the unlucky ones. He had been forcibly brought along as the slave to a freelancer bounty hunter. That said freelancer died in combat while still on contract to the Hellgates, leaving everything he owned to its captain, Guldar. Greenfang was just a young rat then, but he began to plot and scheme and prepared to take action against the other hunters. From a cabin boy, he grew in rank until he took the title of bosun, but even high standing above the crew wasn't enough. He needed more.

Not 18 seasons old, Greenfang began to get on the good side of the eldest hunters aboard the _Hellgates_; Gorrahg the Whiplash. The dreaded hunter was known throughout the ship as one of the greatest swordbeasts aboard, and had a deadly reputation as a beast that killed instantly with his combination of broadsword and his "Demon Whip," a black, scourge of a weapon with a sharp barb at the end.

Getting on the old rat's good side was dangerous. Gorrahg was experienced, and knew well how to deal with young rips trying to kiss up to his strength. He also had a young son, scarcely nine seasons old, who was as paranoid as any young rat would be and refused to allow his father to have anything to do with the young crewmate. The rat wouldn't have anything other than success, however, and eventually managed to become an important lackey to the experienced warrior.

All it took was one slip of a drug in his drink and a challenge to a duel to close his scheme on a good note. Greenfang had studied the code of the hunters ever since he was brought on board, and knew full well that he could not become a hunter without first beating one fair and square. Well, fair was out of the question; Gorrahg was by far the greatest swordsman on the vessel next to the weasel Shadran and the great Deadeyes himself. If it weren't for the drug slowing his senses and deadening his brain, Greenfang would never have been victorious against the warrior rat's blade.

Cutting off the hunter's head was easy. Tossing the body overboard was easier, though not before Greenfang had anything of significant value stripped from his body, leaving him nearly naked before the sharks took his carcass. The old rat's son, Gorril, was nary 12 seasons when he was orphaned by the ambitious rat. Greenfang left him alive to carry out the fate that he once took not that long ago. He hated the youngling, but he would rather make him suffer by his hand then end his life right away.

Nary 21 seasons old, Greenfang had been inducted as the first rat ever to beat Gorrahg in a duel, and was given the honor of becoming a hunter of Guldar's forces. That was many seasons ago, though Greenfang was still considered young for a high-ranking hunter. Even now, he was being treated for his loyalty to Guldar by being given the rank of captain and even being given his own ship, the _Misery_, to command. Though it was not the _Hellgates_, it was more than suitable for the start of a much greater plan.

Now, all that Greenfang had to do was find a way to get full control of the _Hellgates_.

As the newly promoted Captain turned around, he saw the rat Gorril. He was eyeing him; watching him from afar as he attended to tightening the ropes binding the _Hellgates_ and the _Misery _together. Greenfang could tell that something was up. He could feel it in his traitorous bones. Slyly, he approached the young rat; taking care that the sword formerly belonging to Gorrahg was showing outright to the young crew rat.

"Wot are ye up to, bilge rat?" Greenfang hissed.

Gorril kept his cool. He looked up at the hunter and saluted. "Just makin' sure the ropes were good n' tight, sir. Didn't want yore ship tah set sail without ye."

Greenfang looked disdainfully at the ropes. Sure enough, they were bound good and tight. There were no signs of loosening or anything; absolutely no signs of betrayal. The rat glared at young Gorril and growled.

"Wot do yew want, boy?" he growled.

Gorril looked down at his feet. Inwardly, he was trying to contain himself. He wanted more than ever to strangle the vermin captain right now.

"I…I was thinkin'," he muttered, "…I…was thinkin' er…of joinin' yer crew."

Greenfang twitched an ear. "Come agin?" he asked, "Oi don't believe ah heard ye, lad."

Gorril took a deep breath and spoke louder this time. "I was thinkin' of joinin' yer crew, Cap'n Greenfang. I want ter join ye aboard the Misery. I don't care wot position I get…I still wanna join yew n' yer crew. Can I, sir?"

Greenfang could see right through Gorril's ruse. He stared, ruthlessly, at young Gorril. The rat thought he could pull the wool over his eyes, but Greenfang was no fool. He had done the trick so many times before; wooing a superior and making them think he was on their side just before killing them outright. Gorrahg had paid with his life for falling for such tricks. Greenfang wasn't going to let the same thing happen to him.

Before he could say anything, however, he and Gorril both were distracted by the sound of a scream. Both of them turned over to the port of the vessel in time to see the tail of a rat fly overboard; its owner splashing into the waves. A crew rat that had just watched backed away in fright before running off to the opposite side of the deck.

"'Elp! 'Elp, mates! Ol' Smidge just wen' ovverbored!"

The rat didn't go a step further before he was tripped head over paws by Greenfang. The deadly rat captain reached down and picked the fallen rat up by the scruff of his neck.

"Calm down, stoopid!" he growled, "Wot 'appened? Where'd ol' Smidge gerroff to?"

The rat gasped a few times to catch his breath, frightened as he was, before speaking. "Huntah," he said, "A big red devvil o' a beast jus' leaped up an' grabbed Smidge clean out o' the air! Took 'im under the waves ovverbored! I nevah saw nothin' so 'orrible in all me loife!"

"Ye ain't seen 'orrible yet afore I's through with ye," Greenfang roared. "These devvils…there be more?"

The rat nodded quickly. "Aye, huntah! At least tenscore or moah!"

Greenfang dropped the rat in a heap. He let loose a mighty howl. "All paws, man yer battlestations! The _Hellgates_ is unner attack! Get yerselves some pikes n' swords, quickly! All hunters, get ready tah defend Deadeyes wit' yer lives! We're unner attack!"

The crewbeasts immediately went into action. Warrior rats, at least twoscore strong, stormed onto the main deck; each armed with deadly pikes, swords, hooks, and other deadly weapons vermin carry on the open sea. Archers began to make their way to vantage points on the mast and upon the upper deck with bows notched carefully by arrows neatly sharpened in the lower decks.

Guldar Deadeyes stepped out of his cabin to survey the commotion. "What in flippin' 'ell is goin' on 'ere?"

Greenfang rushed up to the captain and saluted. "Cap'n, we're surrounned by devvils! A crew rat go' takin' ovverbored by a monsta'! Tha' ship is unner attack!"

The Pine Marten captain laughed aloud. "Yore off yer rocker, Greenfang! What makes ye believe I'd take yer story as true?"

Both vermin were caught off guard when a series of none-too-curious vermin crewmembers poked their noses over the side. Instantly they were sent overboard screaming as a series of red flashes leapt from the water; enveloping the vermin in tooth-like ropes before landing into the water. The sea suddenly foamed with blood around the _Hellgates_ as it continued its journey, though oddly the creatures caught up alongside it with ease.

"All deckhands, prepare for battle!" Guldar shouted, "_Hellgates_ is under attack! Get yer sorry hides up 'ere an' protect the ship! Show them red devils what it means to be the crew of da' _Hellgates_!"

Right away more vermin began to show up. Weasels, stoats, ferrets, and rats began to stay near the sides of the ship, though not close enough to get caught by the beasts. As soon as some of the red creatures speedily leapt from the surface of the water, the vermin attacked with everything they had; though most only managed to catch air and sea spray with their sharp blades. Those few that hit their targets only scratched an arm or two, and suddenly were repelled by jets of black ink to their faces.

Many more vermin were just as unlucky as the rest that had already fallen overboard. Wiry tentacles enveloped their faces, barbed hooks caught onto their fur and flesh, and many more were simply struck by the flying bodies of the red creatures just before they fell into the sea. The moment they landed, the red creatures dove to their scrambling bodies and quickly began to devour the poor souls.

Guldar could see right away that things were being enveloped into chaos. Growling, he turned to the rat captain. "Don' just stand there!" he shouted, "Go and 'elp!"

Greenfang gave the pine marten a look of shock. "Me?" he asked, "I'm an officer! Why no' send more crew tah do it?"

The pine marten gave Greenfang a nasty look with his deadly gaze. "Yore a hunter," he said, "And I'm the commandin' officer. One more word and I'll toss ye overboard meself! Now, get goin'!"

Greenfang wisely saluted. "Right away, sir," he said quickly before taking off like a madbeast. Greenfang may have hated Guldar, but he knew better than to tangle with the mighty pine marten warlord. They didn't call him Deadeyes for nothing.

* * *

On the lower decks, the oarbeasts were taking part in the chaos as well. Oars were being tugged left and right by the violent creatures, striking many of the unwary beneath the chin or in the gut and forcing many of the oarbeasts to be dragged closer to the sides of the ship. The bosun rat quickly whipped the air to try and get order restored despite the chaos going on outside.

"Get yer hides back in yer seats!" he shouted, "I don' wan' no rebelli'n 'ere, you lot! Get back 'er I'll tan ye all 'til yer fur drops off!"

A slave shouted amidst the din. "I can't get the oar out!" he remarked in alarm, "Somethin's tuggin' it!"

"I can't either!" another one said, "Something's got a'hold o' mine!"

"Hurr, oi'm be a gudd strombeast," a mole said in the back, "an' this un' won' leggo o me eether."

The bosun knocked two slaves aside, chains and all, onto the wooden floor of the lower deck. "Yer all daft beasts," he growled, "It's jus' serm fish 'er debris on der ropes. Lay off! I'll fix it ye mangy dogs…WOAH!"

The rat was suddenly tugged into the porthole as the oar was dragged clean out of his grasp. The unlucky bosun's hand was stuck; its furry form lapping in the ocean as the oar was pulled away. Suddenly he screamed as he was tugged further, right up to his shoulder, by something with extreme force.

"It's gorra me!" he shouted, "Help!"

Bruno the Otter, one of the two tossed aside, quickly grabbed onto the rat. "It's humboldts, lads!" he shouted, "Quick! 'Elp me pull 'im inside afore 'e gets 'is arm pulled off!"

The squirrel slave looked up at the otter with a look of indignation. "And why should we help him at all?" he asked.

The otter gave the squirrel a glare. "'Cause if'n we don't," he growls, "Those lugs outside'll tear 'der hull apart just to getta 'der rest o' 'im! Then we'd all be deadbeasts!"

Right away Jeff, Gregory, and some other slaves began to tug hard on the bosun. Try as they might, they only managed to get his shoulder out of the porthole. His arm began to crack as the powerful beast behind the rat's attack tugged with impressive strength.

The rat screamed. "The thing's eatin' me!" he yelped. "YOWCH! Oh, help! It's tearin' me arm to pieces! Get me outta 'ere!"

"Jus' a bit more, mates," the otter said with a tug, " Everybeast, lean together naow! Pull!"

With some more help, they finally tugged the Bosun out of the porthole. However, he was by no means free. The moment his arm returned to the inside of the hull, it brought with it a huge, red tentacle that was at least as long as the rat was tall. Hooks and barbs clung tightly to the rat's skin while the top of it remained curled around his arm. Pieces of flesh at the base of the rats wrist were torn off, revealing severed chunks of bleeding flesh and muscle. The mouth responsible for the damage; a huge, curved beak that was as white as bone; clacked noisily as the monster tried to tug the rat back out.

The bosun had fainted dead away from the sight of his arm. The squirrel slave quickly rushed up to try and yank the others off of him. "There, you see!" he said, "Good as dead now! Can't we just kill 'im now?"

Bruno knocked the squirrel aside with a powerful blow from his elbow. "Back off," he growled, "Somebeast get 'is sword, an' quick!"

Jeff reached down and grabbed the bosun's weapon, quickly tossing it to Bruno as he did. Just then, the rat awoke and grabbed the otter frightfully before he could even raise the weapon.

"Wot're ye doin?" he gasped, "Don' kill me! I'm no' redday!"

Bruno glared at the bosun rat. "Do ye wanna live?"

The rat could only nod.

"Then leggo!"

The bosun obeyed. Wordlessly Bruno lifted the sword and slashed down hard. The weapon sliced into the wiry arm halfway through, causing the beast to tug furiously. Black ink suddenly was squirted from within, forcing many of the slaves back. That did not stop Bruno, who merely swiped down harder with the rat's curved blade.

Crack! Everyone still keeping hold of the rat fell over backwards as the tentacle was sliced neatly in half. The beast on the other side actually soared over the ocean due to the release of such force before crashing into the ocean; its body missing just one out of eight long, spindly tentacles. From the porthole, the others could see many more of the beasts, which were busy ravenously feeding off of falling bodies from above.

"Wot in flippin' name's all this, lads?" Gregory shouted.

Bruno busily unwrapped the tentacle from the bosun's arm; taking care not to snap any of the delicate hooks as he did lest they become trapped and fester in the beast's body. "Ye just got yer firs' look at humboldt squid, lads. They be's the darkest devils of the seas. Me pap once tried ter fish fer some. Didn't work out too well…"

"I should say not," Gregory agreed, "Did'ya see the size of that confounded beastie? Phaw! That thing's big 'nough to eat the whole Freedom Fighter regiment, wot!"

Bruno shook his head. "Alone, no," the otter said, "Together, yes. Just take a peek outside ta' see what I mean, mates."

Everyone looked to see one of the unfortunates, a weasel, being devoured alive. Tentacles waved in the air as the vermin was torn to pieces, his blood turning the water and foam red. He just barely managed to get his hands to grasp the porthole before he lost his grip to the embrace of death, leaving his body to be torn apart by the monsters.

The rat bosun shuddered. His arm was in great pain, but he completely ignored it. He couldn't believe he had just missed getting himself killed like that.

Before he could say anything, he felt his sword thrust up against him, handle first, causing him to instinctively grab it. He looked up at the otter with surprise.

"Ye'd better see tah that arm," he said, "afore yor mates find out."

The rat silently got up and scampered off. Bruno looked at the other slaves. "Get yerselves away from the sides, mates. Don't wanna get yerselves killed by those monsters, do ye?"

The other slaves did as they were told, quickly scooting to the walkspace between the oar benches and sitting upon the wood, their chains rattling with every movement. The squirrel, who had hit his head on one of the oars that didn't get pulled away, looked up at the old otter angrily.

"What'd you let him get away for?" he asked, "You could have taken his sword and run him through like that, or better yet left him to die to those monsters! Why'd you do it, you coward?"

Jeff the Vole hit the squirrel with his good paw, sending him sprawling on the wood bench. "Lissen' 'ere, yew stupid git!" the vole growled, "Ye'd better be grateful t'at Bruno even did wot 'e did! He saved us all from 'tose monsters! An' what'd ye do, pray tell, ifn' we did slay that rat? Wot good is it ter escape with only one sword an' at least fivescore starvin' beasts? Ye do the math, squirrel. Don' let it hurt yer head too much."

The vole moved back over with Bruno and sat down beside him. The squirrel simply gave the group a stare of ice as the survivors of the Turquoise sat down. Gregory scoffed.

"Looks to me we've made ourselves an enemy, eh wot?"

Bruno looked back up at the stairs where the rat had gone. "Mebbe," he said, "But 'tis better ta have one more than a whole shipful, mate."

**Kerian**: Don't be scared...just because I've risen from the grave it doesn't mean I'm going to eat your brains...or suck your blood...or anything undead related for that matter. rofl.

I cannot help but bow my head in despair knowing that my favorite author, Brian Jacques, has died. It's even harder knowing I could have had the opportunity to shake his hand if I had known it was available. I feel very sorry knowing that he died, but even though he has passed on I can't help but feel a bit obligated to finish this story, at least somewhat so that you guys have a bit more to read. I know I haven't worked on it in a while, but at the very least I'll keep working on it so long as I have the available time. This also includes my other fanfics n' stories, so don't worry if I keep disappearing the way I have been recently.

I just finished reading The Sable Quean not too long ago. I would have been upset if I knew it was the last book, but low and behold to my surprise that Brian Jacques had been writing another one before he passed on! The very last book, when it comes out, will soon be in my possession once I have the money I need to get my hands on it. Although The Sable Quean was good, in my eyes I still like Eulalia! and Doomwhyte better, so I'll be rereading those as I continue this fanfic.

Just to let you know, yes...Humboldt squids do exist in real life. Yes, they are big critters (at least as big as a man's torso in real life). Yes, they do have hooks instead of suckers. And yes...they are voracious predators to the point that even humans are considered easy prey. Don't believe me? Look it up on youtube. I'm sure you'll find a vid or two explaining about how these monsters like to slice your flesh up into pieces with those beaks of theirs...*evil grin* Also, I'm sorry if everyone's accent has been screwed up since I last posted. I haven't worked on the fanfic for a long time, and only just managed to finish this chapter a short while ago, so I'm a bit rusty at writing Redwall style at the moment. Hopefully that'll be fixed before long, as well as all the typos you've been seeing throughout the story. No more "Minx" stuff...*shudders* I can't believe I mistook that as proper spelling. I feel terrible.

Well, that's it for now. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Until next time, me out!

-Kerian


	10. Chapter 8

**The Fallen Star**

**A Tale of Redwall**

_{8}_

* * *

The _Hellgates_ was still undergoing chaos. The monstrous red devils were leaping upon the sides of the ship, catching anything they could reach with their deadly tentacles. Some actually managed to cling onto the sides and grab at the rats with huge tentacles; dragging them over the sides with the strength of ten warriors. Once they were gripped, none of the vermin could escape. The hooks of the beasts clung easily to their fur and flesh.

Gorril was in the middle of the battle. After failing to catch Greenfang's attention and getting a spot on his crew, he had managed to get himself stuck right where the fighting was thickest. It was only thanks to his natural reflexes and his father's training that kept him alive while the monsters continued to flail their deadly tentacles, though he knew it was only a matter of time before he slipped up.

One of his crewmates found himself being dragged overboard. Gorril didn't give him a second glance. He was focused upon one thing right now; his own survival. He knew that he had to find a way to get out of the fighting, but if he deserted he'd only get himself killed later. He had to act fast if he was going to succeed in making out of all of this alive.

"Gerrout o' der way!"

Gorril was pushed aside and landed on the deck with a thud. Greenfang rushed up and drew his sword, cursing to the wind. The powerful rat captain flayed at the air in a poor attempt to hack at the monstrous devils attacking the ship.

"Come on, ye swabs!" Greenfang shouted, "I'll 'ave yer guts fer garters if'n ye don' shape up an' kill these beasts! Devils don' bleed now, mateys, an' these things do! Give 'em hell! Der first one ta' kill ten o' dese t'ings gets tah be first mate aboard 'der _Misery_!"

Although Greenfang was not one for giving speeches, his last announcement more than qualified for boosting the crew's morale. Right away the vermin that had attempted to abandon their posts rushed to the sides, fighting off the devils in a frenzy of fur and steel. It didn't stop the red devils from attacking though; regardless of how many were felled by the vermin blades, more kept coming and dragged the unfortunates over the side, thinning the ranks one by one as they did.

* * *

In Guldar's cabin, the slave girls could hear the din outside. Many of them huddled together out of fear; some whispered of an attack, that the pirates could have been boarded by an enemy ship. Some whispered of the idea of rescue, while others felt that they would be more doomed at the hands of other enemies than at the hands of the pine marten. Selena ignored them all. She was too busy feeling sorry for herself to even care.

In Guldar's private chamber just behind the main cabin, the caged cub was banging away in an attempt to get free. He could hear the fight going on more easily than the girls, even at his current distance away from the deck. The cuts on his face hurt like wildfire, but he didn't care. He just wanted to escape from all the fighting…and from the beast that was there with him.

The mink looked him over and licked her lips with envy. She could just imagine touching the cub's soft fur, and relished in the idea of wrapping it up over her body as a beautiful fur cloak. What did Guldar need of this beast anyway? She knew he could easily capture other beasts; creatures wilder and more savage than a simple bear cub. Even if he didn't, so what? There were plenty of captured slaves and animals aboard the _Hellgates_ to provide the perfect savage army support were they to go to war. He didn't really need one more.

"Don't worry, darling," the mink said with a seductive smile, "Mommy's not going to hurt you…"

_Yet…_

* * *

Gorril got up. His head was throbbing like mad. Shaking his headache off, he looked up. All around the chaos of the battle was continuing. Rats and other vermin were being dragged overboard, while hunters were doing all they could to keep the beasts from pulling them over. Greenfang was still flailing in the air, not even paying attention as one of the red devils was climbing over the side rail of the _Hellgates_.

The moment the beast's tentacle shot out, Greenfang flailed viciously like a madbeast. His sword dropped uselessly by his side while the rat tried to fight tooth and claw against the monster that wouldn't budge.

"'Elp me, mates! Get 'dis beast ta' lemme go! 'ELP!"

The other hunters ignored him. Nobody really liked Greenfang. The rat had only made it this far out of sheer luck rather than through the honor that the rest of the hunters enacted. The rats didn't look as if they wanted to help either. Even the promise of being First Mate was a promise too good to be true when it came to the rat captain. Besides…they didn't want to risk their lives needlessly like that.

Gorril, however, wasn't like the other vermin. This was his chance!

Immediately, he grabbed one of the pikes dropped by a slain rat. Getting up, he rushed forward and let loose a powerful yell like a madbeast. With one mighty shove, he knocked Greenfang aside and gutted the devil with the weapon.

The beast let loose black ink, but Gorril ignored it. With one mighty pull, he lifted the beast clear up into the air and then slammed it onto the deck. The monster flailed its tentacles about madly as it gazed up at the frightened vermin with one of its gigantic eyes.

A weasel was the first to speak up. "By 'eck, mates…Dat t'ing's a squid! Wat in der' name o' 'ellgates spawned a squid tha' big?"

Gorril panted madly as he pulled the pike out and slammed it on the tentacle holding Greenfang. The moment the rat captain was released he tugged violently at the limb still attached and tossed it overboard. He looked over at the young rat with a look of confusion…

Was Gorril mad? Why did he save him?

* * *

Guldar quickly ordered all the vermin to make their way to the safety of the middle of the ship. The crew happily obliged; those that couldn't find room with the others either upon the deck or inside decided that the masts were the best place to be. The red devils continued to leap out of the water madly; occasionally launching a tentacle or two over the side, before diving back into the water.

The pine marten glared madly at the monsters that nearly bested his own crew. His hunters were standing before him now; many of them covered in squid ink and looking like they had just dove into the black soot of a fire. Guldar had counted them all when they had arrived; 99. They were one hunter short.

"Grimfeather!" the pine marten captain shouted, "Report!"

The weasel approached the captain, gripping his paw as he did. Hooks and barbs covered his entire left arm where a squid had tried to drag him over. He had managed to yank himself off, though not without injuring himself worse. Several cuts and scars across the limb indicated where he had frantically chewed or pulled off some of the hooks from his fur.

"We too' a headcoun' o der crew, chief," the weasel said, "T'irty o' dem are dead, a' leas' twelve wounded. Five o' six 'unter casualties in der' battle, cap'n, meself a'cluded. Snarsnik go' two o' dah t'ings on 'is t'roat. 'E nevah made it."

Snarsnik…Guldar spat off to the left. The stupid stoat was one of his best beast tamers. He'd have to find a suitable replacement upon next landfall.

"What about the enemy?" the pine marten asked.

"Double o' our casualties in der way o' der enemy, cap'n," Grimfeather said, "We go' at leas' ten 'er twelve dead on board. Youn' Gorril managed tah kill one 'imself. 'E's been busy takin' off some er' its pieces."

"Good," Guldar said, "Tell the others to do the same. Divide the parts of the creatures up and have the best parts used for weaponry. Make sure not to break the ink sacs; I want those intact. When you're done, take the rest down to the galley. We'll be having squid tonight with our next meal."

Grimfeather bowed. "Aye, milord," the weasel said, "Ah'll gut one o' dah beasts meself."

Guldar leaned forward to look the weasel in the eye. "Send Greenfang and Gorril to see me."

The weasel nodded, a slight smile forming on his face. Without another word he made his way towards the vermin who were busy tearing the squid carcasses apart with all the expertise of culinary wizards. Guldar watched the weasel obey his commands. Inside, he was smiling inwardly. Things were going according to plan.

"Shadran," the captain whispered.

The weasel appeared like a shadow by his side. "Your word is my bond, sire," he said slyly.

"Stay within sight. I want to make sure that Greenfang knows not to try anything," the pine marten commanded.

The weasel bowed. Disappearing into the ship's shadows, he reappeared again just above the main deck behind the captain, one of his daggers in his hands. Guldar had come to rely much on Shadran's expertise as an assassin, and the rest of his crew knew it well. Very few would dare to try to get Guldar's second in command angry; they may find themselves awoken one morning with their throats cut or their limbs cut off.

Grimfeather returned with the two rats. Gorril was eyeing Greenfang with hatred out of the corner of his left eye; the one with the scar tattoo across it. Greenfang, however, was focused upon Guldar. His face denied it, but Guldar could see the scheming in the rat's eyes. It was that kind of ambition that made any vermin dangerous to be around, especially if one is of higher power than him.

"Captain Greenfang," the pine marten said, "Step forward."

The rat obeyed. He approached the great one and bowed low on one knee. Guldar Deadeyes looked between him and Gorril once before speaking.

"I hear that you managed to lead many of the crew in the fight against the red devils," the pine marten said.

Greenfang bowed lower. "T'was a privilege tah kill in da' name o' Deadeyes, cap'n."

Guldar smiled. He appreciated flattery, but the rat was going to be going nowhere with it. "I also understand that young Gorril had saved your live."

Greenfang didn't answer. Guldar turned to the young rat, who quickly bowed low to the pine marten.

"Well, crew rat," the pine marten said, "What say you? Are my words correct?"

The rat nodded. "I slayed the creature that would 'ave otherwise dragged Greenfang overboard, when no other crewmate would do so, cap'n."

Guldar smiled wider. Both beasts tensed under his gaze. It was dangerous to be around the pine marten whenever he smiled like that.

"Fair enough," he said, "I will reward the both of you. Rejoice, Greenfang, for I have found you a new first mate. Gorril, rise…"

The hunters present looked over in shock. Most of them never amounted Gorril to anything after his father, Gorrahg, had died at the hands of Greenfang. Greenfang was the most surprised of all as Gorril stood up and approached their pine marten commander.

Guldar drew his sword; a deadly-looking weapon with marks of varying size and length which showed how many battles the pine marten had won and how great the victory was for him and his forces. As Gorril knelt, the pine marten cut a wound into his shoulder as a show of honor.

"For your show of strength and skill in rescuing an officer," the pine marten said, "I award you the title of first mate of the ship _Misery_, second in a long line of ships that shall become my personal armada. Command alongside your captain, and obey his orders as if they were my own. You have the blessing of your almighty captain, Guldar Deadeyes; Warlord of the Seven Seas. Do you swear your loyalty to myself and your captain to obey us in peace or war, through thunder and lightning, regardless of fear or ambition?"

Gorril felt his spirit rise at the chance of power. "I swear it," the rat said, "upon my blood, my blade, and my honor…"

Guldar lifted the sword; its blade fresh with Gorril's blood. Greenfang glared at the rat with menacing eyes, but one look at the form of Shadran forced him to avert his gaze. The pine marten, completing the ceremony, lifted the sword into the air and flicked the blood upon the hunters.

"Death to our enemies!" Guldar shouted.

"Guldar! Guldar! Eyes of death! Terror of the seas!"

The hunters flashed their blades about and roared. Gorril could feel the prospect of glory and vengeance flowing through his veins. He didn't join in the chant though; he was not a hunter yet…but he knew that he soon would be before long…

He looked up at Shadran. The black weasel nodded to Gorril. The rat smiled. He had to be patient for only a little longer.

* * *

Not very far off, to the northwest of the current position of the _Hellgates_ upon the red waves of the humboldt squids, the ocean foamed and burst with fury as a powerful beast continued his mad journey east. The mighty monster of fur and muscle that was Furborgg was swimming with all of his might, non-stop against the powerful salty waves.

He was tired. He had been swimming against the current of the ocean for at least three days. The scent of the _Hellgates_ was long gone, replaced instead by the salty spray of the great sea as he continued his mad swim. The powerful beast knew he had to stop; not even he, the mightiest of bears, could continue this up for much longer.

Blindly going where his instinct commanded, the huge beast had lost almost all senses. All he knew was that he had to keep going. There was no hope for him if he were to rest now; his only rest upon the open sea would be the crushing embrace of the sea floor far below.

He suddenly stopped when he felt his battle-scarred head bash against a rock. Shaking it furiously, the great bear looked up. A great massive island of stone, painted with many shades of natural blues and yellows, rose high above the waters of the great sea. How he had managed to miss seeing the great thing, he did not know. Nor did he care…he needed rest.

With the strength of ten badgers; sadly barely a quarter of his natural muscle power; the mighty beast dug into the rock with his mighty claws. Climbing up the steep sides of the rock, he made his way up; careful not to slip lest he fall back into the waters below. Continuing his great climb, the bear clawed and clawed at the steadily evening slope until he finally managed to find flat enough ground to rest on.

The island was huge. He could smell the scent of a great, grassy meadow in its center; perhaps at a crater just a distance away where all but the highest eyes would fail to see. The bear could also smell something that he knew of during his younger days. Memories quickly flooded into his mind of a time when he was young, when he left his cave and tried to hunt a group of creatures with hard clubs and spikes…hedgehogs.

Needless to say, he knew very well what those spines tasted like…unpleasant, and not worth gulping down in the slightest. Besides; most were peaceful creatures at heart. Furborgg had learned that some creatures were worthy prey and some were not. Now, he had only developed a taste for the flesh of stag, of fish, and, most of all, vermin...

Deciding it best not to investigate, the bear looked around at his current surroundings. Luck would have it that he had chosen to stop at a natural pool of fresh water; formed by the eroding of the rock through rainfall and having made a natural basin where rainwater would catch and fill. The water was just enough to feed the hungry bear, and so he quickly lapped it up until the salt taste in his mouth was gone.

When he finally had his fill, the basin was all but empty. Shaking the salt-water off of his crusty, brown fur, the giant bear yawned slightly and lay his head down to rest. He was tired, and while the fury in his heart raged on he knew that he would be nothing to his cub as a deadbeast.

One thing remained in his mind as he went to sleep…the vermin scum who killed his mate and stole his cub would pay dearly for this. He would not allow a single one to remain alive as long as he lived.

So vowed the great beast known as Furborgg.

* * *

Guldar made his way down into the depths of the _Hellgates_. Rare were the days now that the captain of the mighty vessel explored her vast depths within her mighty hull. Some of the ship's darkest depths were unexplored even by the oldest of veterans of the great cavernous place, though for the most part Guldar claimed to know his ship from top to bottom. What few places he didn't know about he relied upon his crew to tell him of, and those were indeed a very rare place.

One spot in particular was the Beast Hold, a section of the vessel where the pine marten kept some of his more 'infamous' captives.

The creatures of the hold were loud, noisy, and most often were used for some specific on board the _Hellgates_. Many of the supplies there included chickens and other wild animals to serve the crew of the ship by providing fresh eggs, though for the most part many of them were doomed to become a part of the main course of another meal. Guldar enjoyed his food fresh, and even though there was quite a store of food aboard he always demanded one of the stock be served up to him; either a beast from one of their most recent raids or a recently caught meal of fish or some other hapless creature from the ocean. This also meant that whenever the _Hellgates_ had to enter a long voyage or avoid land for long periods of time there was plenty of food available on board long after the stores were gone.

However, livestock was not the only source of animal on board.

The moment Guldar entered the back room, everything was quiet. There was good reason. Normally, the monstrous beasts inside would be wailing, barking, and roaring to their heart's content…but whenever Guldar stepped into the room they knew well that their very lives were at stake should they dare to make another sound. Guldar enjoyed the silence of beasts in his presence. It showed that even he could master respect from the wild.

The room was very dark. He wasn't surprised. Only one creature enjoyed the pitch black of dark this much…

"Shadran," Guldar said aloud.

"Here, my lord," the weasel's voice spoke from no particular direction.

"The plan is going in effect nicely. I congratulate you. The young Gorril is the perfect pawn to cut aside the loose end. That rat had it coming for a while now."

"Which rat? Young or old?"

Guldar chuckled slightly. "Both. I admire the strongly loyal, but sometimes such youthful ferocity is just another path to disappointment. I dislike the idea of having failures on board my ship…"

The pine marten flicked one of the iron bars. A small creature, not much bigger than he, yipped and jumped to the end of its cage in an attempt to get away. Guldar smiled.

"It will not be long before we reach the next island," the captain hissed, "I want you to keep watching over Gorril. Make sure to steer him in the right direction."

"By your word, my lord," Shadran whispered.

There was a clattering sound on the opposite end of the room in a nearby cage. Something began to stir in the darkness.

"Sssssss…you know that your converssssssation issssss no longer privaaaaaate…"

Guldar chuckled. "It may as well be," he said, "No one would listen to an old fool like you, insect."

Something that sounded suspiciously like metal clanged on the bars. "Ooooooold fool I may be," it hissed, "Bbbbuuuutttt who issss the greater fool? The fooooool that watchesssss sssssilently, or the fool that assssssummmeessss he isssssss above onessssss fate?"

Guldar raked his claws on some random cage, causing another animal to duck away in fear. "Nevertheless, if you claim me to be a fool, then you are still the greater fool to be caught by one. Silence yourself, or I'll cut your rations in half again."

The creature made a rasping sound that was oddly like laughter. "Cut rationsssss to piecesssss…one cannot kill the patient one…mark my wordsssssssss…"

Guldar heard a knife being unsheathed in the direction of the voice. "Shall I kill this one for its insolence, captain?"

Guldar shook his head. "Let him be," the pine marten said, "He'll eventually warm up. No beast has ever lasted aboard the _Hellgates_ before coming to my service or dying. Either way, let him be as patient as he pleases. He'll join us soon enough."

The creature hissed again before withdrawing back into silence. As Guldar turned to leave, he made one last final remark to Shadran.

"Should Gorril even remotely turn to failure," he said, "you know what to do…"

Shadran sheathed his knife. "Your word is my bond, captain."

The pine marten silently smiled as he left the secluded room and made his way out of the beast hold. He enjoyed being always one step ahead of every loose end.

**Kerian:** Oh boy...the humboldts have ultimately failed, and many have become dinner...though not nearly as much as the vermin have. rofl.

I noticed in the last chapter that I did Guldar's accent all wrong, so I fixed it. I also hope you guys liked the scene with Furborgg that I did. I wonder where in the Redwall world he is exactly...of course, if you've read all the books I'm sure at least some of you could figure out where he's gone. He's still quite a ways away from his quarry, though. If he wants to catch up he'd better be quick about it...

Darin: Who would have thought that a big teddy bear would have made it that far so fast though!

**Kerian**: Well Darin, if you think about it, everybody there's a bunch of mice and other small creatures, and very few creatures that live there are much bigger than that. The few that are are described as having tremendous strength and can swim quite a distance without much problem. I'm sure that a bear, a given ten to twenty times the size of any badger or more, can swim a great many leagues nonstop without much problem...rofl.

Darin: ...Redwall makes no sense to me.

**Kerian**: Speak for yourself, mister I-can-facepalm-without-actually-having-hands!

Darin: ...please quit bringing that up. :(

**Kerian**: Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I wonder what's going to happen next. What's going on in Redwall or Salamandastron? I suppose that we'll just have to wait to find out, won't we?

Darin: You just love making your readers suffer the long wait, don't you?

**Kerian**: Hey, if cliffhangers don't get people to scoot on the edges of their seats and read, I doubt anything will. rofl. Although I do agree, I need to find some better way of closing stories.

Well, I think that after a chapter or two I'll call it good for the Fallen Star for a bit and start working on Legacy of the Sages. I still have to finish (or start, whichever comes first) the next chapter, not to mention finsih the first chapter of the revision update. You guys will like it for the most part. I'll be posting it on DeviantART so that it goes along with my prologue that I finished up. Like I mentioned before, I'm not going to be working on posting the revision bit on until after I'm done with at least five chapters, so that it doesn't really knock people up in the way of reading the story...hopefully. I might just keep it exclusive to DeviantART though until after I'm done enough with it that it won't confuse people to the point of no return. I'll let you guys know when I have it set up so that you can actually read it...rofl.

Well, that's everything. Until next time...

Darin: We, out!

-Kerian and Darin, Warriors of Redwall


End file.
